


What A Life I'd Have Missed

by harioandlouigi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Husbands, Light Angst, M/M, Married Couple, Married Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Pregnancy, Pregnant Harry, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harioandlouigi/pseuds/harioandlouigi
Summary: It all started with a prank, tears, and guilt.Louis has been pranking Harry since the day they met. Now, seven years later, Harry has finally come up with the perfect plan to prank his husband back. He has a borrowed positive pregnancy test in front of him, he’s perfected his facial expression, and he’s dead sure Louis will fall for it.He doesn’t exactly get the panicked reaction he expected, though.As a matter of fact, nothing ever seems to turn out the way he expects it to, but that’s for the best, really.Or, the one where an insensitive joke soon becomes a very real, happy pregnancy.





	What A Life I'd Have Missed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scagnetism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scagnetism/gifts).



> Thank you for the prompts. They were incredibly creative and inspiring.
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta. Without your hard work and patience, I would have never been able to post this in time. (Or any of my other stories, really!)
> 
> This is a story about a pregnant man, so expect some pretty big medical inaccuracies.

It all started with a prank, tears, and guilt.

_Harry’s first day at college was going terribly._

_He’d been excited to finally leave high school and gain some independence, he really had, but as soon as his family had left him all alone in his brand-new room, an overwhelming wave of fear had crashed over him._

_He’d created the perfect application, if he may say so himself, made sure all the paperwork was in order after being accepted to his dream college, and spent ages on his computer trying to figure out how to make his future dorm room look mature, but still quirky and unique. Everything had worked out perfectly, exactly how he wanted it to, but he had never even thought about how terrifying and lonely it would be to arrive at a campus where he knew absolutely no one._

_He could hear different people walking past his door every few minutes, their conversations and laughter breaking the sad, self-pitying silence in the room, but he had never felt more alone._

_The thing is, Harry had grown up in a small town, meaning that he could barely remember a time when he had to make friends, having gone to school with the same people every year._

_College was a whole new world, though. A terrifying, overwhelming, intimidating, huge new world._

_After trying (and, mostly, failing) to hold his tears long enough for the redness in his eyes to become less noticeable, Harry finally had the courage to venture down the hallway all the way to the community bathroom._

_He always felt a little better after splashing his face with cold water, and it certainly could only help the swelling from all the crying, so he was going to try that before caving in and calling his Mom._

_By some miracle, it was actually working, the cold water on his overheated face making him feel a little less like likely to drop out of college on his first day._

_He’d been just about to close the tap, facing the sink with his head bent, when a sudden yell behind him startled him so much that the top of his head slammed against the mirror. Truthfully, it wasn’t even that painful, but Harry had already been so miserable and exhausted that he couldn’t help the loud sob that came out of his mouth._

_“Oh shit, you’re crying! Fuck! I’m sorry!” The yeller had said, rubbing Harry’s back way too tenderly for someone who had been purposely hiding in a bathroom stall just to prank a freshman, “Are you hurt? Of course you are. You’re fucking crying, so… Why did I think that was a good idea? I’m such an asshole!”_

_The prankster had kept rambling for way too long, apologies intermixed with self-reprimands, but Harry was feeling so humiliated that he refused to look up or even answer the other boy. To add to his embarrassment, when he was suddenly pulled into a warm, tight hug, Harry sobbed so hard into the crook of the stranger’s neck that snot sprayed out and clung to his tanned skin._

_“Shhh, it’s alright. You’re alright, Curly. I’ve got all the time in the world, no worries.” The stranger reassured him when Harry tried to put some distance between their bodies and stutter out an apology._

_The insanity of how comforting it was to have this boy’s arms wrapped around him only hit Harry once his sobs started calming down, and he immediately pulled away from the hug when he realized that he was basically clinging on to a stranger like a little kid. Was this some kind of Stockholm syndrome where you become stupidly attached to someone who makes you cry?_

_A shit ton of scrunched up toilet paper appeared right in front of his face then, and Harry finally looked up, more out of surprise than anything else, in all honesty._

_“Here, darling. I’m really, really sorry I scared you. Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy or something? How do you feel?”_

_It took Harry way too long to answer, the beautiful blue eyes staring into his too mesmerizing to not be a concussion-driven hallucination. His eyes were just the cherry on top of a beautiful, beautiful cake truthfully, the stranger’s face too perfect to be real._

_“Ye-ah, uh, I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry I, well, um- I’m sorry I got my, uh, on you.“_

_“No worries, Curly. The way you’re apologizing, it almost sounds like you accidentally peed on me, or something. It’s just a little snot, silly. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll even get lovely curls like yours by osmosis.”_

_Harry snorted unattractively, “I don’t think that’s how osmosis works… And, uh, it’s Harry. My name’s Harry, not curly.”_

_The prankster smirked challengingly, “I’ve been studying here longer than you have, therefore I understand osmosis better than you, Curly. I don’t make the rules! I’m Louis, by the way.”_

***

In the seven years Harry has known Louis, he was only lucky enough to live a prank-free life during those first few weeks after they met.

Louis had felt guilty for a while after that first, uh, _incident_ , and he was apparently also trying to show Harry that he was mature enough to be a good boyfriend, so he’d tried to tone down his mischievous personality.

He unconsciously eased back into the real Louis over time, which Harry is eternally grateful for because he’s a million times more amazing than that watered down version.

Pranks and practical jokes are Louis’ thing, and, truthfully, Harry thinks they’re the reason why their relationship has managed to keep that initial excitement all these years. (Well, that and the, uh, _adventurous_ sex they have pretty damn often.)

They’re never malicious – hell, Louis once “pranked” him by covering the floor of his studio in rose petals _coincidentally_ when Harry was feeling a little too stressed about work – so he’s surprisingly fine with being pranked on a regular basis.

The only problem is that, no matter how hard he tries, Harry’s attempts at pranking his husband fail _every fucking time._ He always gives it away, either by being too eager or by having a terrible poker face.

This time though, it’s going to work! He’s put too much effort into this prank to let his body or his face or his fucking vibe, or whatever, ruin everything.

When Glenne had told him she was pregnant again earlier today, the most perfect prank had instantly popped into his head.

(He should really be worried about the fact that his brain promptly turned his friend’s amazing news into a _prank idea_ , but he’s known Louis Tomlinson for seven years and lived with him for five and a half of those years, so…)

He’d waited what he hopes was a polite amount of time before telling Glenne about his plan and asking for her help, and she was instantly on board, having been pranked by Louis many a time before as well.

He finally starts questioning his sanity halfway through his mad dash across town, roughly around the same time when he unconsciously puts his hand in same the pocket where he’s hiding the pregnancy test his friend just peed on. (Wrapped up in toilet paper, of course. He’s insane; not unhygienic.)

Once he pulls it off though, he’s sure it will feel like the most genius idea he’s ever had.

Harry wisely uses whatever time he has left before Louis gets home to make sure his panicked look is on point, standing in front of the mirror perfecting his facial expressions and oh-shit-I’m-freaking-out hair messiness level.

His original plan had been to pretend to be really mad, throwing the pregnancy test at Louis and yelling at him for knocking him up, but then he realized that acting scared and upset would be a hell of a lot more in line with his personality.

He quietly jumps onto the couch when he hears the front door being unlocked, taking a deep, calming breath to settle the overwhelming need to giggle that has come over him.

Harry definitely knows his husband well enough to be able to predict how he’s going to react.

Louis has always been a bit of a commitment-phobe, and he tends to panic whenever he feels like something is moving too fast for him. Harry waited patiently for Louis to ask him to be his boyfriend. He waited patiently for the first “I love you”. He waited not so patiently for Louis to propose.

And now, he finally gets to take advantage of Louis’ chronic fear of responsibility.

It’s not as if Harry has ever felt like he’s more invested in their relationship than his husband, nor that he loves him more than he’s loved back; it’s just that Louis doesn’t handle big changes or conversations very well unless he’s already been preparing for them for a while.

They’ve talked about having kids before, of course, but only in a very distant hypothetical future, so Harry’s dead sure he’s going to freak out.

“Honey, I’m home!” Louis not so jokingly yells as he drops his keys into the bowl by the door, a cute tradition that started long before they were even married.

Harry doesn’t answer, too scared of ruining it all away before Louis even sees the tragic setting he’s worked so hard on. The pregnancy test is on the glass table in front of him, close enough to his body for Louis to notice it as soon as he looks at him, but just far away enough to look like Harry’s scared of it.

He’s so nervous and excited that his hands are shaking, which is actually pretty great given that he’s supposedly about to tell his husband that he’s “pregnant”, and he hopes and prays he’ll be able to keep a straight face.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” Louis asks as soon as he walks into the living room and sees the downcast expression on his husband’s face.

Harry merely nods towards the pregnancy test, feeling incredibly frustrated about the fact that Louis didn’t fucking notice it on his own. He’d been hoping to pull this off without having to look at his husband or say hardly anything, but Louis is making it way harder than it needs to be.

“What?” Louis says as he picks up the pregnancy test, his tone completely devoid of emotion.

Harry takes a deep breath to fight the urge to start laughing, hoping that he can pass it off a sad sigh, “I’m pregnant.”

No one knows Louis better than Harry, he swears, which is why his whole world tilts on its axis when he hears his husband’s classic happy giggle.

What?

“You’re pregnant? You’re pregnant, baby?” Louis asks, his smile brighter than the fucking sun, “Oh my god, H!”

Louis is full-on laughing now, and his little jumps from side to side are almost theatrical. He must have figured out Harry was lying and decided to fuck with him, _surely_. There’s literally no other explanation.

“Okay, I get it. I tried to prank you, so you decided to prank me back instead of just telling me you knew I was lying about being pregnant. Very funny, Louis.”

Harry can’t believe his prank didn’t work! He was so sure he’d done everything right and that Louis was going to fall for it… He’ll be gray and old before he actually manages to prank his asshole of a husband.

“Oh” Louis whispers, and as soon as Harry looks at him – like, _really_ looks at him, not just small glances of annoyance – he knows there’s nothing fake about his reaction, “So, you’re, uh- we’re not going to have a baby?”

Harry’s so dumbfounded by the outcome of his prank that all he can do is shake his head in response.

A single tear runs down Louis’ cheek. Then, another. And another.

It all ends with a prank, tears, and guilt.

At least that’s the immediate thought that pops into his head.

There’s no way Louis is going to forgive him after this. And Harry doesn’t deserve to be forgiven either.

He’d been so busy patting himself on the back for coming up with “the best prank ever” that he never realized the severity of tricking his husband into believing that he was going to be a dad.

He had honestly thought they would laugh about this for years - and he isn’t using that as an excuse; it’s evidence of how fucking insensitive he can be. Louis is crying though, big, fat, genuine, heartbreaking tears of disappointment.

He’s crying because Harry’s not pregnant.

He’d cruelly dangled something that Louis apparently wanted right in front of his face, only to shit all over it afterwards. He’s a horrible, horrible man, and a terrible husband.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry whispers, not sure what else to say after messing up so, so badly.

Harry hadn’t even realized he’d started crying himself until his husband dries his tears with his sleeve, wiping his own eyes right after.

“It’s okay.” Louis says, even though Harry knows that it’s really, really not, “I know you meant no harm. It was just a prank. You obviously weren’t expecting me to react the way I did.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Louis. God, what was I thinking? I’m such a shitty husband, I hadn’t even realized you wanted a baby.”

“I hadn’t realized it either, H, so don’t beat yourself up. Like, I honestly didn’t know I was ready to have a baby. It’s so stupid, but I guess all it took was for me to think that you were pregnant for it to become a _thing_. A thing that I apparently really want.”

“Then, let’s do it. I’ll give you a baby!” Harry says, straddling an unsuspecting Louis who had literally just sat down next to him.

Louis stops his face with both his hands when he tries to kiss him, and, even though he’s trying to hide it, he looks so, so disappointed at Harry. Shit, is he ever going to stop fucking up?

“Harry,” Louis sighs, “I know you’re feeling guilty and you’re trying to fix everything, which, for the record, I’ve already told you that it’s fine and that I forgive you, but this is insane. You can’t just _give me_ a _baby_ \- you have to want it too. A child is not some sort of an apology gift that you can just offer me.”

Harry is a bit taken aback by his husband’s accusation, “I know that. I know that a baby isn’t an expensive watch or, like, a massage, or something. It wouldn’t be a gift to you, obviously, it would _our_ baby. I just phrased it wrong.”

“Look, you thought that telling me we’re going to have a baby would be a great prank. A joke. There’s no way you’ve gone from _that_ to actually, seriously wanting to have a baby in the span of a few minutes. People don’t change their minds just like that, not about something as huge and life-changing as a child. You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking you want this because _I_ want this, but you really, really don’t.”

“Okay, I did think it would be a great prank, that’s true, but it was mostly because I was sure you were going to start panicking. You know you don’t like to be pressured into big commitments. Plus, you said you hadn’t realized you wanted a baby until you thought it was a thing that was happening, so why am I not allowed to suddenly realize I want a baby too? Maybe I didn’t wake up this morning and think that I wanted to start trying to get pregnant, but I’ve always wanted to have kids, and I’ve been dreaming about starting a family with you literally since I was eighteen. Why not start now?”

Louis doesn’t seem mad at him, but he’s definitely growing more and more frustrated.

This has got to be one of the lowest points of their relationship, if not _the_ lowest.

His husband rubs his eyes and exhales loudly, “I’m not having a baby with you until I’m one hundred percent sure you actually want it. This is a big deal, and there’s no undoing it.”

“I know having a baby is a big deal.” Harry says, and although he knows his arguments are becoming weaker and weaker, he doesn’t want his husband to keep thinking that he’d have a baby just because he feels guilty.

Louis places a conciliatory hand on his thigh, “How about this? Christmas is in a week and then New Year’s Eve is just around the corner. We’ll forget about all this for the holidays and afterwards we can both think about it some more. If you still want to have a baby by then, we’ll discuss it, okay?”

Harry agrees straight away. Louis does have a point, even if Harry is a little bit offended by his lack of faith in him. There’s a fair chance that his guilt or his willingness to make his husband happy are clouding his judgment, although he honestly doesn’t believe that he’d regret getting pregnant.

*

The following day is unsurprisingly tense.

Harry feels immensely guilty as he pops the birth control pill into his hand, fully knowing how meaningful that gesture is now.

He can feel Louis’ eyes on him as he swallows it down, but he really doesn’t want to know the reason behind his unwavering gaze.

Either his husband is disappointed at him for actively preventing a pregnancy or he’s worried Harry might skip his birth control on purpose in order to give him the baby that he wants, and both options are heartbreaking.

*

It’s certainly not the first time their relationship has been strained – all couples go through rough patches if they’re together long enough – and Harry and Louis do what they always do, they try to make peace.

Even though the situation is slightly different, given that neither of them were actually angry, the usual extra efforts to be caring and thoughtful work just as well, and two days after Harry’s unbelievably callous prank, they’re back to their normal, sappy, loved up selves.

Something still feels different though, and it isn’t until they’re exchanging gifts with their families on Christmas day that Harry finally puts his finger on it.

Their relationship feels… incomplete. Almost as if there’s a part of it missing, even though Harry knows there isn’t.

He can’t believe it took him this long to realize he’s been missing what could have been.

He’s been missing the life he could have be living right now if it hadn’t been just a stupid joke, the memories he could be creating if he had actually been pregnant.

The disappointment he feels when he takes his birth control is new, and so is that longing whenever he sees a baby on the street, and the idea that there’s too much empty space under their Christmas tree.

He’s always wanted to have kids, yes, but he actually, truly wants a baby _now_.

Louis asked him to wait until after the holidays to have this conversation though, and lord knows Harry has already fucked up enough, so he’s going to respect his husband’s wishes.

*

Harry is a weak, weak man.

There’s still three whole days left until January first and Harry has already bookmarked a few pregnancy blogs and “accidentally” opened the baby section while online shopping four fucking times.

The first thought that had popped into his head when he woke up this morning was that he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.

He _needs_ to tell Louis he wants a baby right fucking now.

Louis is still asleep behind him, their bodies molded together in that flawless spooning position they have perfected throughout the years. Harry can feel his husband’s hard cock against his lower back and the upper part of his ass, and he wants it inside him _now_ , not just because Louis is a mind-blowingly amazing lover.

“C’mon, baby, wake up.” Harry begs, grinding his bare ass against his husband’s lovely cock.

“Well, good morning to you too, H.” Louis says, his voice raspy and sluggish, and Harry is struck by how lucky he is to be the only man in the world who gets to hear that sound every single day. _Forever_.

“Make a baby with me, Lou.”

Truthfully, Harry had been hoping to be a bit more eloquent when bringing up this topic, but at least he hasn’t put his foot in his mouth, and that’s what really matters, right?

He feels Louis still and tense up behind him, so he turns around to face him, “I know we agreed to not talk about it until after the holidays, but I don’t want to wait any longer. The thought of taking that stupid pill _again_ makes me feel sick. I want to have a baby, and I promise it’s not because you want one. I want this for myself. I want to be a dad, Louis. I want to buy lots of adorable baby clothes and finally keep them for myself. I want this to be the last Christmas without toys and an extra stocking above the fireplace. I want to be able to say that 2018 was the year we finally became a proper family. I want to have your baby, yes, but I also want to have _my_ baby, which probably makes no sense, but you know what I mean. I want to give you a baby, but, by God, I swear I want to give myself a baby a hundred times more.”

Harry knows that the tears blurring his vision are a bit counterproductive considering that, to have a baby, they need to _make_ a baby, but he’s just told his husband that the wants to get pregnant, so it’s completely justified in his opinion.

Louis just lies there without saying or doing anything for what feels like an eternity, and Harry starts getting scared that his husband has changed his mind about the baby.

Then, in an amazing, yet messy gesture, he stretches his arm over Harry’s head and throws the birth control blister pack onto the floor, accidentally sending a water bottle over the edge as well.

“Well, let’s get rid of that shit and start making a baby, then.” Louis says, and Harry’s heart skips a beat when the crinkles appear by his husband’s eyes, a telltale sign of genuine joy.

He doesn’t waste any time before pressing his lips against his husband’s, the kiss quickly turning dirty when Louis’ tongue slides into his mouth. There may have been a time when Harry cared about morning breath, but they never get out of bed without sharing at least one kiss, so that stale bitterness tastes almost sweet to him.

The seriousness of their conversation may have made their early morning hardness wilt a bit, but the way Louis rolls his hips down once he’s on top of Harry quickly solves that.

Harry wraps both his legs around Louis’ lower back, trying to be as close to his husband as humanly possible.

It doesn’t take long before they’re too desperate to just keep kissing, and Harry briefly wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling like a perpetually horny teenager around his husband. (Here’s hoping he never does.)

“Why do you insist on wearing clothes to bed?” Harry complains as he tries to take off Louis’ t-shirt without accidentally elbowing him in the face.

(It’s a legitimate concern, as it has actually happened once before. Okay, it’s happened more than once… He’s a mess.)

“We can’t all be walking, talking furnaces, can we?” Louis argues back, taking off his boxer briefs and making Harry drool at the sight of his husband’s hard, pink cock.

The sound Harry makes when Louis lies on top of him again, his bare cock sliding against his own, can only be described as guttural. There’s honestly no one in the world whose touch he has ever or will ever crave more than his husband’s.

Louis grabs the lube from the bedside table with the gracefulness of someone who repeats this exact action several times a week, and Harry is once again blown away by how natural and instinctive their sex life is, almost they’re two puzzle pieces slotting back together.

(What? They’re about to make a baby, he’s allowed to be ridiculously sappy!)

“Fuck, look at you… Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” Louis says reverently as he drinks in the sight of his husband, his knees bent and his legs spread wide open, waiting to be filled up.

Harry blushes and bites his lip coyly, like he always does when he receives a compliment from the person he most wants to impress, but he doesn’t stop playing with himself, stroking his cock slowly and without much pressure.

Louis presses a single finger inside him and then another soon after, knowing that he likes to feel that stretch to the point where it’s borderline painful.

Harry’s entire body spasms when the pads of his husband’s fingers press against his prostate roughly, and he’d be tempted to ask Louis to make him come like this if he didn’t know how much better his cock is going to feel.

They haven’t used a condom in years, but it still feels stupidly meaningful when Louis starts pressing his _bare_ cock inside him.

He loses the ability to think sappy thoughts – or even think at all – when Louis starts thrusting into him in earnest, holding onto the headboard for dear life as he squirms in pleasure.

Louis knows Harry’s body better than he does at this point, so he’s been steadily brushing over his prostate since the first thrust, but just the tiniest change in angle is enough to make him hit it dead on and cause Harry’s back to bend at an almost supernatural angle.

As soon as his husband’s hand wraps around his cock, he knows he won’t last even a whole minute longer. It only takes two strokes, and then Harry’s coming, a shaking, gasping, screaming mess of pleasure that leaves his throat achy and body sore.

Harry hasn’t even come down from his high before Louis is coming too, probably having been holding back for his sake.

His husband puts his whole body on Harry’s, just like he likes it, and presses their foreheads together as huge smiles appear on their faces.

They stay like that for a long time, enjoying the closeness and relishing in the thought that they might just have made a baby – _their_ baby.

*

There’s one main piece of advice all the pregnancy blogs Harry has read seem to agree on: if you’re trying to conceive, don’t start taking pregnancy tests obsessively from the minute you stop taking your birth control pill.

Harry fully understands where they’re coming from, especially considering that all that stress and pressure can actually make it harder to get pregnant, but he might be carrying _their baby_ already, so isn’t it worth it to take just one test for the heck of it?

He certainly doesn’t want to find out, like, two months from now that he’s been pregnant this whole time and hasn’t been taking care of his body properly or going to the doctor.

It’s been two weeks and one day since they’ve started trying for a baby, it’s officially 2018, and Harry is holding a pregnancy test in his hand.

Louis doesn’t even know he bought it, let alone that he’s planning on taking it right now.

There’s a chance he’s not pregnant yet, of course, and Harry didn’t want to disappoint his husband (again).

Harry knows that people don’t usually get pregnant literally as soon as they start trying, and that false negatives are a possibility if it’s too early, but he still feels incredibly disappointed when he reads the “not pregnant” on the little screen.

He instantly wishes he would have gotten a pregnancy test that gives the result in cryptic lines instead, because seeing the actual written words written there is a bit too harsh.

“It’s okay. It’s only been two weeks. It’s going to happen soon enough. The next one will be positive.” Harry whispers to himself as he sniffles, putting the test in the trash and taking it out straight away so that Louis doesn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

If there’s an upside to all this, it’s that his husband didn’t have to go through that emotional rollercoaster with him.

*

Harry doesn’t even wait two full weeks before taking a second test.

Another negative.

The next few times he only waits a couple of days.

Negative.

All of them.

On the exact date that marks the third month-aversary of their first attempt at trying to get pregnant, Harry hides in the bathroom while Louis is busy answering emails and pees on that damn stick again.

Negative. Fucking negative _again_.

Harry has honestly lost track of how many of tests he’s already taken. He might have to get a second job just to be able to afford these fucking (always negative) pregnancy tests if he doesn’t get himself knocked up soon.

He throws the pregnancy test into the sink in anger, the noise being loud enough to worry Louis, apparently.

“H? Is everything alright?”

He would answer, but he’s too busy sobbing into his hands to be polite.

Louis barges right in without even knocking, “What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

“I jinxed u-us.” Harry hiccups, sobbing into the crook of his husband’s neck just as he had done the first time they met.

“Shhh, deep breaths, that’s it. What’s going on, honey?”

“We’re never going to have a baby. I fucking jinxed it. We’re cursed because of me, and now I’ll never be able to get pregnant. And I deserve it because I’m a fucking asshole, but you don’t. And I can’t give us a baby. I can’t give us a baby because I thought it would be funny to pretend I was pregnant. I’m so s-sorry.”

“Harry, look at me, please.” Louis begs, tenderly lifting his husband’s head with both hands on his cheeks, “It’s only been three months, okay? You haven’t cursed us or jinxed it, or whatever. It’s going to happen eventually, baby, we just have to wait until my balls manage to produce a Michael Phelps. I’m pretty sure the only people who get pregnant straight away are people who are _not_ trying to get pregnant. We have to work hard for every good thing in life, so why would this be an exception? And by work hard, I mean fuck like bunnies, of course.”

Harry snorts, the snot coming out of his nose making it extra gross, “That was really romantic up until that last sentence. Well, that and the Michael Phelps thing.”

“In all seriousness, it might take some time, but it’s going to happen. We’ll get our baby eventually. Please, please, please don’t blame yourself like that ever again. I’m sure that when you do get pregnant, you won’t be claiming that you made the baby all on your own, so why would the fact that it hasn’t happened yet be only _your_ fault?”

“I don’t deserve you; you’re amazing, Louis. I love you.”

“Nah, I’d say we’re perfect for each other, actually.”

*

Harry still takes a pregnancy test every other Saturday morning like clockwork, but he doesn’t hide it from Louis anymore, nor does he feel as guilty after seeing the disappointing result.

Great things take time and work, and it’s going to happen eventually.

(And if it doesn’t, well, they’ll just have to consider other options because what truly matters is finally having their little family.)

He’s also found a way to make those Saturdays less shitty, thanks to his genius husband.

They always do something fun after throwing the pregnancy test in the trash, something that Harry wouldn’t be able to do if he were pregnant. It may seem silly, but buying a nice bottle of rosé and making up weird drinking games, or going out for sushi, or repainting their hallway really do keep that crushing feeling of failure away.

It may not be a “pregnancy test Saturday” today, but they’re still currently indulging in something they’d probably be too scared to do if Harry were pregnant: having toe-curling, maddening, wall denting, rough sex.

Louis is absolutely plowing the fuck out of him, and Harry has already lost the ability to stay on his hands and knees, his face buried into his pillow as his hands scramble to find something to hold on to.

The pillow muffles his moans and groans and sobs and mewls, so the loudest sound in the room is that of skin slapping against skin.

Unlike what you’d expect, Harry is actually the one who’s loud, loud, loud in the bedroom. Louis is much quieter while he’s having sex than when he’s doing literally anything else, so Harry always treasures every sound he gets out of his husband.

Harry’s so, so close to his second orgasm of the night, and then he hears that broken moan, a telltale sign that his husband is about to come, and that’s all he needed.

Louis collapses right on top of him, and they stay exactly like that for several minutes, their breaths ridiculously labored as they recover from what has got to be the best sex they’ve had in quite a while.

“Fuuuuck, that was good.” Louis says, lifting his body off of Harry and lying next to him instead, “I bet that if you took a pregnancy test right now, it would be positive. That’s how fucking amazing I am in the sack.”

Harry snorts, “Not how it works, sex bomb. Even if you had actually knocked me up, it would take a while for us to know.”

“No, that’s for people who aren’t married to sex gods. I just made you come _twice_ , and the second time was untouched, so clearly normal rules don’t apply to me.”

“Hormones don’t care about whether or not you were touching my dick, Louis.”

“Oh, _please_ , they don’t stand a chance against my magical, mind-blowing cock. Your hormones are one hundred percent screaming “fuck yes!” right now, just like you were five minutes ago.”

“You know what? I’m going to take a pregnancy test so that I can prove you wrong and stop hearing your nonsense.” Harry says, standing up even though his legs still feel like jelly. His will to prove Louis wrong is strong even when his body is weak…

“No, come back and cuddle me. I was kidding, don’t indulge me.” Louis whines, making grabby hands.

“You can’t take it back now that I’m about to prove you wrong!” Harry complains from the bathroom, shivering as his sweat-covered body cools down.

His cock is so sensitive right now after coming twice that having to hold it makes him regret his decision to prove Louis wrong.

“Here, now you can stop saying scientifically incorrect bullshit.” Harry says jokingly, throwing the stick at Louis, “I’m going to get some water and maybe some fruit, and then we can watch _Chopped_.”

“Ew, don’t throw it at me, you filthy asshole! It has your pee on it! Gross!” Louis complains, using the t-shirt he was wearing before they had sex to pick up the pregnancy test and set it on the bedside table. Without putting anything underneath it. Logical.

Harry is still smiling thinking about how there will never be a boring day in their household as long as Louis is here, when he hears his name being shouted from the bedroom.

“I’m getting some pineapple. I’ll be there in a second, baby.” Harry yells, sure that Louis is just getting impatient waiting for him to come back.

“Harry?” Louis shouts again, and this time Harry does make his way to their bedroom because, as impatient as his husband may be, he wouldn’t pester him like this for no reason.

“Is this a joke again?” Louis asks as soon as he spots him down the hallway, his voice breaking twice despite the fact that it was a fairly short question.

“What?” Harry asks confusedly, wondering why Louis is acting the way he is.

“Harry… Harry!” Louis says, his hands visibly shaking as he hands his husband the pregnancy test.

Harry stares at the plus sign for ages, and although he’s sure that that means he’s pregnant, and he’s seen plenty of minuses on the previous tests, he still runs into the bathroom and gets the box out of the trash.

“Harry?” Louis asks, almost as if he’s lost the ability to say any other word after seeing the result. He’s gotten up from their bed though, and is now standing in the bathroom with Harry.

Harry reads the instructions over and over and over again, even though it’s plenty clear that a plus means pregnant.

“Oh my god!” Harry sobs as soon as he finally lets himself believe what he’s seeing.

He’s _pregnant_! Their dream has finally come true! They’re going to have a baby! Holy shit!

“We’re going to have a baby, Lou!” Harry screeches into Louis’ ear when his husband hugs him, and, all of the sudden, they’re literally jumping for joy and laughing their hearts out.

*

By some miracle, Harry manages to get an appointment for the following day, which is great because he’s becoming more and more scared with each passing hour that the pregnancy test (and the other two he’s taken since then) could be wrong.

Much to his disappointment, Dr. Weller tells him that it’ll take one to two days to get the results back, and Harry spends nearly every second of the day and half it takes for the call to finally come with his phone glued to his body.

He’s at work when he finally gets that much-anticipated call, doing a newborn photo shoot, of all things. If it were literally anyone else calling, he’d wait until after he was done to return the call, but this is too important, way more than being professional.

He apologizes to little Emma’s mother and excuses himself, his hands trembling as he lifts the phone up to his ear.

He knows that although false negatives are something to watch out for, false positives are really, really, _really_ rare, but he desperately needs someone else, a _professional_ , to tell him that Harry and Louis aren’t having some sort of shared hallucination and seeing a plus because that’s what they want to see.

“Hello?” Harry says hesitantly, sitting down just in case it’s bad news.

“Good afternoon. This is Sarah calling from Dr. Weller’s office. Is this Harry Edward Tomlinson-Styles?”

Harry still gets butterflies in his stomach every time he hears his new last name, so he has a little smile on his lips as he confirms that he is, indeed, Harry Edward Tomlinson-Styles.

“I was calling to let you know that your results are ready. You’ll need to come pick them up, but I can tell you right now the result of the pregnancy test if you’d like, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles.”

“Yes!” Harry practically yells, “Sorry, um, yes, please.”

Sarah laughs quietly in response, but Harry would be willing to bet that she’s heard the exact same reaction a million times before.

“Congratulations, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles! You’re pregnant!”

Aaaand Harry’s crying.

Again.

No words could express the happiness he feels right now.

He’s having a _baby_!

He’s having a baby with the kindest, fiercest, most loyal man in the whole world!

He’s so excited, he can’t even remember if he thanked Sarah properly; all he knows is that before he picked up the phone he was almost sure he was pregnant, and now he knows for a _fact_ that he’s going to be a dad.

Thankfully, little Emma is still asleep when he remembers that he’s supposed to be working instead of crying.

“Are you okay, Harry?” The new mom, Hannah, asks, and Harry knows he must look like a mess just from the worried tone in her voice.

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just- well, I just got a call from the doctor’s office saying that I’m pregnant, and I know you’re not supposed to tell anyone before the end of the first trimester, let alone a _client,_ but I’m just so, so happy that I can’t help it.” Harry answers, speaking faster than remembers ever speaking before.

“Oh my god, that’s so exciting! Sorry, my hormones are still a little crazy.” Hannah says, drying the tears that had started running down her face with a tissue, “So, how are you going to tell your husband? My brother wrapped up the picture from his ultrasound and gave it to his husband for Christmas. It was the cutest thing ever! I wish I had done something special for my husband too.”

Truthfully, Harry had only been planning on, you know, _telling_ his husband when he got home instead of calling him in order to see his reaction, but if he worked that hard to fake a pregnancy, he should work even harder now that it’s the real deal.

He stops at the doctor’s office to pick up his lab results on his way home, tearing up again when he opens the envelope to see the confirmation of his pregnancy, but he still doesn’t know how he’s going to tell Louis.

The answer comes to him when he sees the estimation that he’s around three weeks pregnant, which, for the record, proves that Louis didn’t actually fuck him so hard that the result was instant. As a matter of fact, Harry had already been pregnant when he’d taken the previous test, but it must have been too early to be detectable.

Louis looks exhausted when he gets home, so he lets him to sit down on the couch after kissing him hello before getting the box.

“I got you a present after work today. Open it!” Harry says, and although Louis looks a little confused and more than a little suspicious (probably because the box weighs _nothing_ ), he still unwraps his gift and opens it.

“This is an empty box, Harry.” Louis deadpans, raising his left eyebrow and pressing his lips together.

“No, it’s not. Look closer.”

“What is this?” Louis enquires, finally finding the itty bitty thing Harry put inside the box, “Is this- Is this a _poppy seed_?”

“That, my dear husband, is the size of our child. I finally got the call. We’re having a baby!” Harry screeches excitedly, jumping onto Louis’ lap and accidentally knocking the box to the ground.

“Oh my god, H! We’re going to be dads!” Louis shouts, holding his husband’s face and pressing their foreheads together.

Harry was absolutely ecstatic before, but after witnessing Louis’ reaction to the confirmation that they’re going to have a baby, he’s over the moon.

He could be having this baby all on his own and he’d still be happy, but there’s nothing like knowing that he’s starting a family with the love of his life.

Ever since he met Louis, all the little victories have felt a hundred times sweeter because he gets to share them with him. It should have been obvious all along that the biggest accomplishment of Harry’s life would be this: a baby, a _life_ that they’ve created _together_.

*

Harry had genuinely thought he could just get an appointment for, like, the next day and someone would squirt some gel onto his belly and he’d get to see his baby on the screen.

Yeah, it apparently doesn’t work like that _at all_.

He _was_ able to schedule an appointment at the same place as Glenne, but it’s in _four weeks_.

He has to wait until he’s seven weeks pregnant to get an ultrasound. Five fucking weeks from now! More than a month!

Harry is quickly discovering that pregnancy is not simple or easy to understand at all. There’s a hell of a lot more work and awareness involved in having a healthy baby than just making it, waiting nine months, and then bringing it into this world.

Considering that it took a while for him to conceive, he really has no excuse for not having learned more about pregnancy.

(Or not learning anything, really!)

As a pregnant man, he should really be ashamed of not knowing jack shit about pregnancy or even his own anatomy.

He feels like he’s been handed a diploma without passing any exams, and it’s freaking him out.

It’s not surprising at all that he drives to Barnes & Noble on a whim and buys a pregnancy book that looks like an actual Bible.

(Even though it costs a fortune. And they should be saving money because baby stuff is expensive. Shit. Knowledge is power?)

He also buys a scrapbook, wanting to do a week-by-week update with pictures and a little diary entry.

The thought of their little boy or girl seeing it when they’re all grown up, and knowing that they were so, so loved from the very beginning brings tears to his eyes straight away. He blames it on the hormones, even though he knows it’s just his sappiness showing.

Harry and Louis spend ages discussing how they should start the entries in the scrapbook - besides just writing “x weeks”, of course.

They’re both really pleased with the end result, though.

_Hi, little poppy seed! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

*

_Week 6_

_Hi, little pomegranate seed! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

If last week Harry had been uncomfortable because of his incredibly tender nipples, this week he’s in actual fucking hell.

Morning sickness his ass; he feels nauseous all day long, and pretty much every fucking smell on god’s green earth sends him running to worship the porcelain gods.

He honestly can’t even tell anymore if he’s exhausted because he’s pregnant or if it’s the incessant puking that’s tiring him out.

To make everything worse, whenever he’s forced to interrupt one of his sessions, he always has to lie and say that he thinks he’s caught a stomach bug because it’s bad luck to tell people before the end of the first trimester. He feels so, so guilty whenever he lies though because it’s almost as if he’s ashamed that he’s pregnant when he’s actually never been prouder of anything ever.

Luckily, Louis is the best husband in the whole world.

He always drops everything he’s doing to go comfort Harry as he pukes his guts out. He never eats anything that could trigger his husband’s nausea. He freezes electrolyte solution in ice cube trays for Harry to suck when he feels too sick to take care of himself. He lets him pick what they’re going to watch and only huffs once or twice every time Harry chooses something lame. He’s even started cleaning the house totally unprompted and making an effort to be less messy.

And he does it all without even wanting a thank you, always saying that it’s the least he can do with Harry carrying their baby.

It’s so, so worth it, though.

As long as their baby is healthy and happy – not sure how happy a pomegranate seed-sized human can be, but… – Harry will gladly suffer now because he knows that they’ll be holding their little son or daughter in their arms in less than eight months.

*

_Week 7_

_Hi, little blueberry! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Today is the day of Harry’s first ultrasound!

Although he’s a little nervous, he’s so excited that not even the mood swings that have been plaguing him lately can bring him down.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Corden. Nice to meet you.” The doctor says with a wide smile, and Harry has only been in the same room as him for, like, a minute, and he already understand why Glenne loves him. Dr. Corden has such a positive and trustworthy energy surrounding him, it instantly calms him down.

“I’m Harry Tomlinson-Styles and this is my husband, Louis.”

They’ve been married for almost three years and saying that still hasn’t gotten old.

“Alright, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles, I’m just going to confirm the information I received and then we’ll do the ultrasound, okay?“

“Of course. Oh, and call me Harry, please.”

“So, Harry, this is your first child, correct?”

Harry nods.

“I see that you’re seven weeks along now and that your lab results are normal. You’ll need to have your blood drawn again soon to make sure everything’s still as it should be. Your medical file doesn’t reference any major medical issues, but I always like to double check.”

“Never had anything beyond the common cold, no.”

“That’s great. I know you don’t have any other children, but have you ever been pregnant before?”

Harry knows he’s partially referring to people who have suffered miscarriages, and he shudders as he thinks about how emotionally damaging that must be.

“No, this is my first pregnancy.”

“So, how have you been feeling lately, Harry?”

“Fine. Yeah, just fine.”

“He was throwing up a lot last week, but this week has been a little better.” Louis intervenes, “What? Just because it’s a normal pregnancy symptom, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell your doctor about it…”

“Your husband’s right, Harry. Sometimes pregnant men and women don’t report their symptoms because they assume they’re normal, but that’s not necessarily true.”

“It’s fine, really.” Harry says, blushing, “I’ve stayed hydrated and have been careful to replenish my electrolytes.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Have you also been taking your prenatal vitamins?”

“I’ve taken them religiously everyday since before I even found out I was pregnant.”

“Excellent. So, that’s everything I wanted to ask you. Do you have any questions for me before we start the ultrasound?”

“We’re friends with Glenne Christiaansen and Jeff Azoff, and she told me that there’s a twenty-four-hour emergency number type thing…”

“Yes. At the end of the appointment we’re going to provide you with a little booklet with, like, the dos and don’ts during pregnancy and some other important information, and that number will be written on there. It is a twenty-four-hour service like you mentioned, so if you have any urgent questions, or if you’re not sure if you need immediate medical care, please do call and someone will help you. If it’s a medical emergency, however, please call the emergency services directly. Glenne and Jeff, huh? They’re great, and their daughter is absolutely precious. This one is going to be just as adorable, I’m sure.”

“I don’t think they care as much about how adorable this baby is going to be as they do about whether he will be as restless as his sister.” Harry jokes, almost feeling like he’s sitting at a café chatting with a new friend. Louis keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs though, clearly too excited about the ultrasound to even participate in the conversation.

“Alright, Harry, Louis, are you ready to see your baby?” Dr. Corden asks, standing up to go wash his hands.

“Fuck, yeah!” Louis blurts out, making Harry smack his arm in outrage.

Dr. Corden simply laughs in response though, “Harry, if you’ll please take off all your clothes from the waist down and lie over there, we can get this show on the road. You can cover yourself up with the paper drape that’s right there.”

He does as he’s told, rolling his eyes when Louis jokingly licks his lips once he’s got his underwear off, but still holding out his hand in search of his husband’s as soon as he’s lying down.

Holy shit! They’re about to see their little blueberry for the first time!

It’s instantly quiet in the room once Dr. Corden starts looking for their baby, Harry and Louis holding each other’s hand tightly while their gazes are fixed on the screen. It’s not as if either of them actually understands what they’re looking at, but they don’t want to miss the exact moment when their little son or daughter pops up on the screen.

“Huh, would you look at that? I’ve got a little surprised for you.” Dr. Corden says, though he’s smiling, so Harry isn’t worried.

“This is your baby right here.” The doctor says, pointing at an area of the screen where an itty bitty, almost peanut-shaped _human_ is visible, “And _this_ is his or her brother or sister! Congratulations, guys, you’re having twins!”

“No way! Oh my god, baby!” Harry says, or, rather, yells, looking away from the screen for the first time just in time to watch Louis’ eyes fill to the brim with tears.

“Twins! I mean, I had a feeling this might happen, to be honest – twins do run in my family – but I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment, just in case it was only one. This is so exciting! I’m so happy, H!”

Dr. Corden allows them to have that moment of excitement, patiently waiting for them to celebrate the happy news - so patiently in fact, that Harry actually forgets where they’re at.

It isn’t until he tries to get up to kiss his lovely, sensitive, amazing husband that the pressure reminds him that he’s getting an ultrasound.

“Oops, sorry! I guess I got a little too excited…” Harry jokes, smiling apologetically.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. More than fine, actually. It’s these little magical moments that remind me of how much I love my job, truthfully. I’ve got some more good news for you – everything looks perfectly normal so far. You see this right here? That’s baby number one’s heart beating and that is baby number two’s heart. Do you want to hear your babies heartbeats?”

Harry honestly doesn’t think he’s ever nodded as fast as he did just now.

“I can’t promise that it’ll be as quick or as easy to find as they make it look in the movies, or even if we’ll be able to hear them today because it’s very early in the pregnancy, but I’ll try.” Dr. Corden, ironically finding one of the heartbeats straight away.

Harry is sure that even if he lives to be a hundred and five, he’ll never forget the beautiful sound of his baby’s heart filling up the room.

“It’s so f-fast… Is that normal?” Harry asks, stumbling over his words as two tears run down the side of his face.

“Yes, it’s perfectly normal. Babies have a faster heart rate than adults. Baby number two here has a heart rate of a hundred and sixteen, which is well within the normal range.” Dr. Corden explains patiently, speaking in a quieter tone as to not overpower the sound of the baby’s heartbeat.

Finding baby number one’s heartbeat is a bit more challenging, and Louis jokingly claims that he or she is more similar to Harry because they enjoy making their Papa’s life harder.

Maybe he’s right, because this baby has a slightly slower, calmer heart rate than the other, so they might actually end up with a more Louis-like, energetic baby and a quieter Harry-like twin.

*

_Week 9_

_Hi, little cherries! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

(Harry winces as he writes the entry for this week down, his perverted mind instantly reminding him of the sexual connotation that is often given to the word “cherry”. Hopefully, his kids won’t make that association until they’re, _at least_ , in their thirties.)

After trying and failing to button up a pair of tighter jeans, Harry is sure that he’s finally showing. Even he can admit that it’s not much, and he’s honestly had food babies that were a lot bigger, but there’s definitely a tiny pouch growing outward.

Louis celebrates it like it’s huge, even though he can barely see it probably, and Harry allows himself to have the decadent brownie with a vanilla ice cream scoop that he’d been craving since the day before.

“Do you think I should buy some pregnancy clothes already?” Harry asks, putting down the pregnancy book after getting slightly woozy reading about the extra blood he’s producing and how it may cause “bulging veins” and “bleeding out of several orifices”.

“I mean, I don’t think you’re quite at the weird elastic-band pants stage yet, but you should probably invest in some other options besides your collection of tight black jeans. It’s your call, though. It’s not like it’s going to go to waste anyway - you’ll need proper pregnancy clothes eventually.”

“Hmm, maybe some looser pants or even some leggings would be a good idea. My jeans have been feeling a bit too tight when I’m trying to get a good angle lately, which is probably not very good for me or for the babies. Do you want to go today? I know the mall is perpetually overcrowded during the weekend, but I’m always exhausted after work, so I don’t know if I’ll feel up to going shopping during the week.” Harry mumbles, cuddling further into the blanket around him even though he’s talking about leaving the house. He still remembers the good old days when Louis was the one who was always cold… Now it’s him who can barely go anywhere without bundling up.

“Sure, we’ll go now. Let me just get you a little snack so that you won’t go too long without eating. Do you want fruit or a sandwich, H?” Louis asks, bending down to kiss Harry’s forehead.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“This much?” Louis jokes, spreading his arms out like a little kid.

“No, this much!” Harry jokes back, his longer arms creating a bigger distance.

“Show off…” Louis mumbles, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes.

“Don’t show me that tongue if you aren’t willing to stick it elsewhere!”

(If they only leave the house almost two hours later, it’s because Louis does stick it elsewhere, but that’s nobody’s business but theirs.)

By the time they’re finally home again, Harry’s the proud owner of a few pairs of leggings, some looser jeans, and some early pregnancy pants.

(He doesn’t need to buy loose sweaters just yet because he’s been buying them two sizes bigger since he found out how cute Louis looked drowning in them.)

Neither of them could resist buying a few newborn jumpsuits and bodysuits, and two stuffed animals, even though they have to carefully hide them away because they’re keeping the pregnancy a secret from literally everyone besides Glenne and Jeff.

(And they only told them because Harry wanted to go to the same doctor, but couldn’t remember his name or where he worked.)

It’s not like Harry and Louis are particularly superstitious, but their babies’ health and safety are too important for them to share the news before the end of the first trimester, just in case.

They’ve heard different versions of the superstition, ranging from not telling anyone at all to being allowed to let the closest family members in on the secret, but this is one of those cases of better safe than sorry.

*

_Week 10_

_Hi, little kumquats! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry is married to the most considerate person in the whole world.

It may seem strange, but he’s not even referring to all those lovely things his husband does for him, like hiding animal crackers in his camera case because he knows it’s the only food Harry can tolerate sometimes or telling him he looks beautiful multiple times a day, especially when he can tell that Harry isn’t feeling very confident.

No, what makes him sure that Louis is the most considerate person in the whole world is the type of pranks he’s pulled on him lately.

(Someone else might think it’d be more considerate to stop pranking a pregnant person all together, but Harry doesn’t want to be treated like a porcelain doll, and he certainly doesn’t want his husband to think that just because he’s going to be a dad, he has to suppress his lovely, mischievous, bubbly personality until he’s a bland, sad human.)

Every prank and practical joke Louis has pulled on Harry since they found out they’re going to have a baby has been perfectly harmless and safe for pregnancy.

He’s stayed clear of anything that could scare his husband or make him jump or be stressful at all or result in any accidental injuries, and he came up with these boundaries and “rules” all on his own without Harry having to ask him to be careful.

His favorite so far has been when Louis glued googly eyes to every single item inside their fridge, but this one might actually be good enough to dethrone it.

Harry had been trying to make his hair look like less of a mess before leaving for work in the mirror by the front door when he saw the reflection of the framed picture behind him.

The frame was still the same and it was in the same place where it’s always been, but instead of a picture of Harry and Louis at the latter’s graduation, it was a photo of Jon and Kate Gosselin from back when she was pregnant with all those babies.

And the one next to it was of a fat, orange cat with its litter.

What?

Harry finally understands what the joke is after seeing another two or three pictures of animals surrounded by babies: multiple pregnancies.

They’ve had this running joke about how they’re baby-making machines since they found out they’re having twins, and now Louis has taken it to the extreme, of course.

“I feel like I should be offended by the fact that you’re comparing me to cattle with these pictures.” Harry says as soon as Louis picks up the phone, trying not to give away just how amused he is.

“What?” Louis asks confusedly, and for a second there Harry worries that all the puking has finally driven him insane, “Ohhhh, you finally saw the pictures! I’ve had them up for so long, I didn’t even remember it anymore.”

“Wait, what? You’re telling me that I’ve been walking up and down this hallway for, like, _days_ and never noticed the pictures had been replaced?”

“Days? Nah, not days. _Weeks_. I changed them almost two weeks ago, and I can’t believe I wasn’t even there to witness your reaction first-hand.”

“Oh my god…” Harry says in between giggles, “This is actually insane! You’re ridiculous, but I’m even more ridiculous. _Two weeks_? What is wrong with me?”

“Harry, I just told you that I forgot they were there, and I was the one who put them up. What is wrong with _me_?”

Harry ends up laughing so hard that he has to sit down in the middle of the hallway.

Sure, there are a lot of couples that love each other, but there’s no way in hell anyone else has as much fun together as they do.

*

_Week 11_

_Hi, little Brussels sprouts! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

God bless yoga!

Harry had taken yoga classes for a year and a half while he was at college, partly, but honestly not just because Louis loved how bendy and athletic their sex life became during that period. After graduating though, grown up life had gotten in the way, and there was other stuff Harry prioritized over yoga.

After the return of his morning, afternoon, and evening sickness, Harry had desperately searched for solutions online. He’d found quite a few blogs talking about some poses that supposedly worked miracles against nausea, so he’d given yoga a chance again.

And it worked!

Not only has Harry’s digestive system calmed the fuck down, _thank god_ , he has also learned new ways of dealing with unpleasant symptoms in general, has been feeling more relaxed, and his flexibility has actually increased despite the whole pregnancy thing.

He’s even met a few soon-to-be mommies and daddies at his classes, and they’ve shared some great pregnancy tips with him.

Plus, Louis is just as into it now as he was back in the day, if not even more.

Harry had woken up feeling very queasy this morning, so it’s no surprise that he’s currently breathing deeply while trying to maintain a tree pose.

Louis was still deeply asleep when he’d gotten out of bed and into a pair of yoga pants, but he walks out of their bedroom as Harry is transitioning from a pigeon to a cat pose.

“Well, good morning to me!” Louis says excitedly, breaking the previously relaxed atmosphere.

“Shh, don’t distract me.” Harry berates, trying to focus on his cat pose and ignore the fact that he’s been in this exact position a million times before under a very different set of circumstances.

“Or, you could stay on your hands and knees just as you are right now and I could distract you with my dick in your ass.”

“It’s called the cat pose.” Harry argues back weakly, knowing full well that there’s no way in hell he’s saying no to that, no matter how hard he tries to resist it.

Louis merely raises an eyebrow in response, looking just as cocky as someone who is as attractive and amazing in bed as he is deserves to be.

“Fine… But afterwards you’re going to cuddle me for a long, long time, and then you’re going to make me pancakes.”

“Deal. Come on, kitty cat.” Louis jokes, helping Harry stand up even though he definitely doesn’t need that kind of help yet.

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

*

_Week 12_

_Hi, little passion fruits! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Keeping the pregnancy a secret from their family and friends is really, really hard, especially considering that Harry is so happy, he wants to scream it from the rooftops.

To make everything worse, they haven’t visited or allowed visits from any of their family members in ages because they’re scared of accidentally giving it away, especially now that Harry has a little pouch.

(According to Louis, his incredible pregnancy glow would also make it obvious that he’s got their little bundle of joy growing inside him, but Harry thinks that’s bullshit.).

It sucks! He misses his family – the Tomlinson/Deakins included, of course - and not a single day goes by that he doesn’t want to ask his Mom for pregnancy advice.

After a borderline threatening voicemail from his Mom, Harry finally agrees to Skype with both her and Gemma, who’s currently spending a week at their family home because she can focus better on her article away from the chaos of the city.

He’s absolutely dreading it.

He always feels so, so guilty, not only because he’s hiding something really important from them, but also because he’s such a terrible liar that he almost gives it away multiple times whenever they talk.

It is, therefore, not surprising at all that he accidentally mentions being so busy yesterday that he almost forgot to take his vitamins.

“For, uh- because it’s been really cloudy lately!” Harry blurts out after realizing his mistake, even though they can literally see the sun shining through his window, “You know, vitamin C is important. Vitamin D? Ha ha, one of the vitamins… There are so many, nobody can actually keep track of all of them, right?”

His Mom and sister look like the fucking twins from _The Shining_ or some shit, staring at him with the exact same knowing expression.

“I’m going to be a grandmother, aren’t I?” Anne says, a small smile of hope on her lips as she waits for the confirmation that she’s finally going to have a grandchild.

“Yes.” Harry whispers, caving in way more easily than he should have.

There’s squealing and laughter and tears on the other side of the screen, and, just like that, Harry stops giving a fuck about some superstition.

He was less than two weeks away from being able to share the happy news anyway, so it doesn’t even make a difference, right?

By the time Louis gets home, Harry has a headache thanks to all the happy tears, Gemma and their Mom’s squeals, and pregnancy in general.

“Hi, baby!” Louis says, kissing Harry before bending down to greet their twins, like he always does, “Hi, smaller babies. Have you been good to your Daddy today?”

“I told them.” Harry blurts out instead of giving his husband a proper answer, “I told Mom and Gemma that I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, thank god!” Louis sighs, “I’m pretty sure the only people in my family who haven’t figured it out yet are the younger set of twins, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I can’t act for shit when I’m this happy, as it turns out. Sorry, baby!”

“I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you considering that I’m just as guilty as you are, Lou. It’s really cute that you’re that excited about our little peanuts. I promised Mom and Gemma that we’d drive up there tomorrow so that they can “meet” the babies, is that okay? Oh, and I haven’t told them we’re having twins yet, so at least we’ll get to share those happy news together!”

“Of course it’s okay. It’s going to be fun! I can’t wait to rub the ultrasound picture in Gemma’s face and tell her that, no matter how hard she tries, her future babies will never be as adorable as ours.”

 

(Louis does gloat _a lot_ when they arrive at his husband’s childhood home, but, to be fair, Harry also thinks their babies are gorgeous, even if Gemma argues that she loves them, but they look a bit like wonky peanuts.)

 

As soon as Harry wakes up, his heart starts racing. He feels wet, and not in a sweaty kind of way.

He turns on the bedside table lamp and takes off his (fortunately) white underwear, trying and failing to slow down his breathing.

He’s no stranger to spotting – it’s the reason why he’d picked up the habit of wearing underwear to bed in the first place – but there’s never been so much blood before.

“What’s going on?” Louis mumbles sleepily, startling Harry.

“I don’t know. It’s probably just spotting and I’m freaking out for no reason.” Harry explains, showing Louis his stained underwear.

Now that the initial shock has worn off, Harry notices that the blood is smudged, so maybe there isn’t actually a bigger amount of it, but it just happens to be more spread out because he was moving in his sleep or something.

“Do you think we should call that number Dr. Corden gave us, H?”

Just as Harry is about to tell Louis that no, he’s pretty sure it’s just spotting and it’s normal, his brain unhelpfully reminds him of the reason why they’re currently having this conversation at his Mom’s house – he hadn’t actually waited until the end of the first trimester to tell them about the babies.

What if it isn’t just spotting? What if it really is bad luck to not wait until the second trimester to tell everyone?

Harry shares that terrifying thought with Louis, hoping that his husband will be the voice of reason and tell him to stop being paranoid.

“Okay, we’re going to the hospital, just to be sure.” Louis says instead, getting a sweater and a pair of leggings out of their small bag for Harry to wear.

The amount of people in the emergency room is understandably small considering that it’s three-thirty a.m., so Harry is seen by a doctor almost immediately after getting there.

And the doctor makes him feel like a piece of fucking trash.

He goes on and on about how there’s _obviously_ nothing wrong with the babies and that, if everyone who experienced spotting came to the hospital, they’d fill up the whole place.

Harry’s so, so relieved to know that his babies are okay, but, at this point, he feels like he’s too dumb to even be allowed to have children.

After a twenty-minute lecture on his stupidity, Harry almost feels compelled to apologize to every single person he’s seen since arriving at the hospital for wasting their time.

“Don’t let him get to you.” The smiley nurse says after the doctor has left the room, “You know, people always say that they’re _going to be_ a dad or a mom. I think that’s bullshit. You’re a parent from the moment you start worrying about your children’s health and safety, regardless of whether or not they’re still in the womb. It takes a whole lot of fatherly love to drive out here in the middle of the night just to make sure your babies are alright. I’ve seen a lot of parents in my career, and I assure you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, you should be proud of yourselves and of your partner for being so great at this parenting thing already.”

Ever since Harry found out he was pregnant, he’s become hyper aware of the nastiness in the world. If he starts to think about the horrible, horrible things humans say and do to each other on a daily basis, he easily falls down a rabbit hole of sadness and fear.

He just can’t help but be terrified of the society that his children are going to grow up in and wonder how fast it’s going to tarnish their innocence with its cruelty.

And then stuff like this happens.

People like this lovely, lovely nurse happen, renewing Harry’s faith in humanity.

It may feel like the world is filled with assholes sometimes, but goodness and compassion will surprise you when you most need it.

And even if everyone else suddenly turns into an total dick, his babies will always be able to count on him, and Louis – who is without a shadow of a doubt the best person he knows – and all their friends and family.

*

_Week 14_

_Hi, little nectarines! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry didn’t just meet the love of his life in college; he also met the best friends he could ever ask for.

Technically, Liam was actually Louis’ friend first and Niall was Harry’s, but nobody gives a fuck about that anymore.

There are actually quite a lot of people they’ve kept in touch with after graduation, thanks to Louis’ brilliant sense of humor and Harry’s ability to make friends even in line at the supermarket, but their absolute best friends are Liam and Niall.

It hasn’t been easy keeping the pregnancy a secret from them – it has probably been even harder than hiding it from their families actually, considering that they see them at least once a week – but they’re finally able to tell them the good news now without worrying about that stupid superstition.

They invite the boys over for a Saturday afternoon of movies and popcorn, but Harry doesn’t even wait until they’ve taken their jackets off to blurt out that he’s pregnant.

“Pay up, bitch!” Niall instantly exclaims, playfully pushing Liam a bit too roughly, if the way the other clutches his shoulder is anything to go by. Fuck, they’re getting old.

“Congratulations, Harry and Louis. You’ve created life with your junk. Good for you.” Louis complains sassily, looking slightly annoyed by their reaction, actually. If Harry had to guess, he’d say that his husband is more offended on his behalf than his own.

“Jesus, are we really that bad at hiding it? Is there anyone at all who’ll be surprised to find out I’m pregnant?”

“Yes, you’re really, _really_ bad at hiding it, but we actually made this bet in college. I said you’d have a baby before 2019 and Liam was dumb enough to think you’d wait longer. Ha, in your face, sucker!”

“Well, if those were the terms, then _technically_ neither of you won because we’re having _two_ babies.”

“Twins? You’re having _twins_?”

“No fucking way! What?”

Finally, the reaction Harry and Louis were hoping for.

“Hey, take it easy there!” Louis warns when he sees Niall hugging Harry a little too tightly.

“Calm down, dude. He’s pregnant, not made out of glass.” Liam says, laughing at Louis’ overprotectiveness.

“Harry’s a vessel of life and deserves to be treated accordingly, you fuckers.”

Neither Liam, nor Niall bother answering. They both know that hell hath no fury like a protective Louis Tomlinson-Styles.

*

_Week 15_

_Hi, little apples! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

For the first time _ever_ , Harry doesn’t wake up with Louis cuddling him on their anniversary.

Although the beginning of the second trimester had (thankfully!) been the end of some of the worse pregnancy symptoms, and a huge relief given the decrease in the likelihood of miscarriage, it had also been the end of peaceful sleep for Louis.

Harry has been suffering from restless leg syndrome for the past two weeks, a ridiculous pregnancy consequence that makes him kick his poor husband in his sleep all the time.

When it first started, Louis had patiently put up with it, even though he’d been exhausted, but after a hard kick to the balls, he’d decided to sleep out his husband’s range of motion to make sure that they would be able to have more kids in the future.

He cradles his bump lazily, a gorgeous little thing that is now visible even when he wears sweaters, wondering if his babies are moving.

He hasn’t been able to feel them yet, which he knows is normal considering that it’s his first pregnancy, but he still wishes he were already at that stage. It must be so incredible to not just _know_ he’s carrying them, but actually _feel_ them inside him.

He cuddles up against Louis, thanking the gods above for making their anniversary fall on a Sunday this year, meaning that they can sleep in and then spend the entire day together.

“Happy anniversary, baby.” Louis rasps out, Harry’s attempt at gluing his whole body to his husband’s apparently waking him up (oops!).

“Happy anniversary! Thank you for marrying me, Louis. You make me so, so happy and I love you so, so much…”

“Aw, H… I love you, too.”

The sappy whispered confessions go on for longer than either of them would like to admit, only interrupted by kissing, and then touching, and then Louis moving deliciously well in and out of him.

They have lunch at a cute little café, and dinner at the same restaurant as on the day that Louis proposed, and Harry falls even more in love with his husband.

They agreed not to talk about the babies the whole day, both knowing that it’s too easy to lose that spark when you start having kids.

Harry absolutely adores his little buddies, but Louis is the love of his life and he’ll always cherish his time alone with him.

Neither of them wants to lose sight of the other to a point where Louis being the father of his children becomes more important than him being his husband and best friend, or vice-versa.

As selfish as it may sound, Harry sometimes resents the fact that most of his conversations revolve around the pregnancy now. He can’t even remember the last time someone other than Louis asked how his job is going or, like, what movies he’s seen lately.

He’s pregnant, sure, but he’s still a person beyond that, and sometimes he feels like everyone sees him as a walking, talking incubator now.

Which is why it’s extra sweet when Louis focuses solely on him for a whole day and gives him presents that aren’t baby-related in any way.

He’s so, so lucky to have such an amazing husband…

*

_Week 17_

_Hi, little pears! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry’s starving, as seems to be the norm nowadays, but he’s too focused on trying to decode if the fluttering in his stomach is hunger, gas, or the babies moving to actually eat.

Does the fact that he can’t tell if it’s his babies moving or _gas_ make him a bad father?

“Does the fact the fact that I can’t tell if it’s the babies moving or gas make me a bad father?” He asks out loud, wanting to hear his husband’s opinion.

(Who’s he kidding? He actually wants Louis to tell him that no, he’s not a bad father.)

“Of course not, H. It’s your first pregnancy; you’re not supposed to know everything. I sure as well wouldn’t be able to tell those two apart. Plus, I’ve always heard that bad parents don’t worry about whether or not they’re bad parents, so the fact that you’re scared you’re not a good dad means that you care enough about the babies to not want to mess up. You’re a great dad, I promise.” Louis answers patiently, grabbing some peanuts from the plastic bowl he’d balanced on Harry’s bump. It’s insane how much bigger it’s gotten in what feels like only a couple of days.

“Maybe I should google it…”

Louis snorts, “You’re going to google whether or not you’re a good father?”

“No, I’m going to google how to tell gas apart from-“

“Jesus, what the fuck, H? Are you okay?” Louis asks, wondering why the hell his husband just straightened up his back so fast that his precious little peanuts fell all over the floor.

“That was definitely a kick! My fucking guts couldn’t have punched me that hard. It was a kick! It was a kick, Lou! One of the babies kicked! And I _felt_ it! Oh my god!” Harry positively yells, tears springing to his eyes.

“Do you think I’ll be able to feel it?” Louis asks dreamily, and Harry immediately grabs his husband’s hand and places it over the spot where he felt the kick.

They spend ages like that, their hands pretty much covering Harry’s entire bump hoping to feel a kick.

“You’re not going to kick for your Papa, babies?”

“Sorry, honey. I can’t even feel them moving around anymore, so I think they might be sleeping.” Harry says gloomily, sad that he’d only felt one kick and Louis had felt none.

“It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get lots of chances to feel the babies kick again.”

*

_Week 18_

_Hi, little sweet potatoes! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Louis was wrong, as it turns out.

For some reason, Harry had just assumed that once the babies started kicking, they would be doing it non-stop. It’s been a few days, and he still hasn’t felt an actual kick again.

He feels the fluttering in his belly all the time, but he’s gotten to a point where he’s started wondering if he imagined the whole thing.

They’ve got another huge milestone to focus on today though, thank god. They’re going to find out the sex of their babies!

Okay, they’re _probably_ going to find out the sex of their babies, as there is a fair chance that they won’t be able to know until the next ultrasound.

(Harry has read that a thousand times and he’s been trying to keep his excitement down to a bare minimum, but he’s still hoping and praying that they’ll get lucky.)

It isn’t just about curiosity. Harry feels like it will make it more real and he’ll feel even closer to his babies.

 _However_ , he strongly rejects the notion that he needs to find out their sex in order to “know if he’s buying pink clothes or blue clothes, or both”, like he’s been told about a thousand fucking times.

He always shuts down those comments though, going on a rant about how there’s no such thing as boy and girl colors, and how you shouldn’t impose stereotypes and gender roles upon your children.

Their twins will grow up knowing that they don’t have to fit into boxes or base their decisions on what they’ve got inside their pants.

Harry’s hands are shaking as he lifts up his sweater, both out of excitement and that nervousness that always shows up whenever he has any sort of check-up. He wants his babies to be healthy a gazillion times more than he wants to find out their sex.

“So, your ultrasound today will be longer than your last one, which I know sucks because you have a full bladder, but there’s a lot I need to look at to make sure everything is okay. Also, please bear in mind that I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to tell you the sex of the babies yet, okay?” Dr. Corden says as he squirts the cold gel onto Harry’s belly.

The ultrasound does take ages, Dr. Corden making a bunch of measurements and looking at different organs. He’s kind enough to explain what he’s doing so that they’re not totally out of the loop, but Harry’s so enraptured by his little babies moving around on the screen that he can’t really focus on the doctor’s explanations, to be honest.

The only time he actually pays attention is when Dr. Corden tells them that one of the babies is slightly bigger than the other, making Harry panic just a little bit thinking that the other baby is not getting enough nutrients. The doctor is as patient with him as always, explaining that it’s not unusual for twins to be slightly different in size and weight.

If Harry weren’t already married, he’d probably propose to Dr. Corden.

He’s always smiling, he has yet to rush through an appointment, and he never makes them feel dumb or unprepared just because they don’t know everything about pregnancy and parenting.

And, most importantly, he’s good at his job and Harry really does trust him with their babies’ health.

It’s gotten a lot easier for Harry to actually see something in the grainy ultrasound pictures, either because he’s gotten used to them or because the babies look more human and less blob-like.

Right now, he can clearly see one of the twins moving around and then lifting his or her little arm, almost like they’re bopping their own nose, while the other is completely still except for these tiny leg twitches.

It’s the most precious thing Harry has ever seen and a little glance at his husband tells him that Louis is just as captivated by their children.

They actually chose not to have a 3D baby scan because they both want their first time seeing their babies’ faces to be when they’re born.

(Plus, truthfully, the pictures they saw on the internet were kind of terrifying and demon-like, so… no, thank you!)

The fact that Harry can now feel a lot of what he’s seeing is absolutely insane.

Like, objectively, he’s always known that what he saw on the screen was what was happening inside him, but actually _feeling_ it makes everything more intense and touching, and he can feel his emotional attachment to the little babies on the screen growing deeper and deeper by the second.

“Well, since you have both been so patient, you’ve earned this reward… I can tell you the sex of both of your babies right now. One of them was a little more stubborn, but we managed. So, are you still interested in finding out what you’re having?”

“Yes!” Harry and Louis say loudly in unison, looking at Dr. Corden with such a childish enthusiasm that he can’t help but chuckle.

“Well, this baby right here who just _nodded_ , weirdly enough, is a girl.”

“A girl, Lou!” Harry squeals, even though he’d been claiming since the beginning of the pregnancy that he didn’t care either way.

(He’s pretty sure Louis knew the truth all along though, if the knowing smiles whenever the topic would come up were to be trusted.)

“And the shy baby over here who kept giving me a hard time is… a boy! Congratulations, guys!”

“One of each? We’re having a boy _and_ a girl?” Louis sounds borderline hysterical, but Harry feels the exact same way. As a matter of fact, he’d probably be screaming if he weren’t too busy crying.

The amount of times Harry has burst into happy tears since he found out he was pregnant is insane, but it’s not even because of the hormones - he’s just so, so excited and loves his babies so much.

*

_Week 20_

_Hi, little artichokes! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Today was supposed to be a great day.

The beginning of the twentieth week marks the pregnancy’s halfway point, and Harry and Louis had decided that they’d celebrate it by choosing the babies names’.

It’s safe to say that it’s not going as well as they’d been hoping.

“For the last time, Louis, we’re not naming the babies after _Game of Thrones_ characters! They always die in horrible ways and I don’t want to spend the next fifty years of my life saying, _yeah,_ _you were named after that character that got his head bitten off by a White Walker while he was, like, having sex with his sister, soz._ Plus, their names are weird as fuck and it’s really, _really_ tacky to name your kids after a TV show character!”

“Oh, sure, sure. Why don’t we name them John Doe and Jane Doe then, so they can think that we just told the nurse to name them herself?”

“You know what, I’m going to take a nice, relaxing bath because my whole body hurts from carrying _your_ fucking kids.”

Harry fully intends on storming out of the room, except he barely takes two steps before losing his balance and falling on his ass.

The extra weight and volume on his front has completely changed his center of gravity, and if he was clumsy before, he’s completely lost the ability to walk properly now.

“Shit! Are you okay, H? Are you hurt?” Louis asks, crouching down in front of Harry and running his hands all over his face and body to check for injuries even though he fell right on his ass.

“Yeah, I’m okay, baby. My ass hurts, and not in a good way, but I’m fine.” Harry says, pouting, “I’m sorry about all that. I shouldn’t have gotten mad just because I didn’t like your suggestion. It was an asshole move. You have as much of a right to an opinion as me, and I should have tried to talk it out instead of instantly rejecting it and being mean to you.”

Louis sits down on the floor, grabbing Harry’s legs gently and wrapping them around his waist, “I’m sorry too, H. I’m really into the show now, but I’ll probably not even care in a few years, so it’d be stupid to name our kids based on what’s likely a fluke. I know that you care just as much as I do about finding the perfect names, and if we work together, I’m sure we can pick adorable names for our adorable babies.”

“Help me up?” Harry begs, hoping that a helping hand will prevent him from falling right back down on his ass.

“Always…” Louis answers, pressing a fond kiss to his husband’s lips.

*

_Week 22_

_Hi, little papayas! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

“I think your fingers might be getting a little too swollen for you to wear your wedding ring, Harry.” Louis says, interrupting the game they’d been playing with the twins. They’ve recently discovered that if they press the place where the babies are at, they will move away, so Harry and Louis have been having a grand old time playing with their son and daughter – and most likely annoying the shit out of them.

“No, they’re not.” Harry denies quickly, hiding his hand behind his back like a little kid.

“You do know that if they swell up enough for you to not be able to take your wedding band off, they’ll have to cut it off and ruin it, right?”

“They will?” Harry asks in the most pitifully scared voice.

“They will, baby. I’m sorry. You can’t just walk around with the ring cutting off your circulation until your finger falls off, H.”

“But I love my wedding ring. I don’t want to stop wearing it… It’s the physical embodiment of my love for you.”

“I know, baby. I don’t want to see that finger naked either, but I know that you love me and that you have no other choice but to stop wearing it. Plus, you have another very visible evidence of our love.” Louis says, kissing Harry’s bump twice, a kiss for each baby.

Louis is right.

Harry _knows_ Louis is right.

The idea of having to leave his wedding ring at home until the babies are born – or at least until the swelling goes down, which is probably going to be on the exact same day – breaks his heart, though.

The day that Louis put that ring on his finger and promised to spend the rest of his life with him, Harry swore he wouldn’t go a single day without wearing it.

And now he’s being forced to take it off – for _months,_ probably – and not even the fact that it’s because his body is doing everything possible to keep their babies safe and healthy is making him feel less sad.

(Louis buys Harry a necklace chain the next day so that he can wear his wedding ring on his chest, close to his heart. He’s so, so lucky to have such an understanding, considerate husband.)

*

_Week 23_

_Hi, little eggplants! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

“Why today?” Harry whines, trying to find a comfortable position that doesn’t put as much pressure on his aching trunk and pelvic bones.

He’s got such a busy workday ahead of him, a pregnancy shoot for a couple whose wedding he’d actually photographed, adorably enough, followed by an engagement photo shoot, and his body just had to chose today to pester him with every single pregnancy symptom possible.

He’d woken Louis up literally in the middle of the night because he was craving pickles and chocolate – ideally together – but by the time his husband had come back from the supermarket, the thought of eating pickles alone was enough to make him gag.

He’d spent the next twenty minutes bawling because his sweet, sweet husband was so good to him and Harry felt so, so guilty for waking him up and making him drive all the way to the supermarket, and then not even touching the food he’d brought back.

He’d then woken Louis up _again_ just before his alarm was set to go off because he’d had the most realistic dirty dream of his life – seriously, he can still picture it perfectly in his head, as well as _feel_ the incredible accuracy with which dream Louis had been hitting his sweet spot with his cock. He was so horny when he woke up, he literally cried, begging his husband to fuck him.

And then he’d cried _again_ while taking his weekly bump photo because he looks huge and disgusting, and Louis is surely going to leave him and find someone who doesn’t look like a fucking whale. What an altruistic man his husband is, willing to fuck a horrible-looking mess like him out of the kindness of his heart.

Harry loves being pregnant and he adores his babies, but, by god, there are some days that fucking suck, and today is definitely one of them.

His self-esteem has hit a new low, both because of how horrible he looks and because he’s already struggling to do certain things without help.

He feels like the worst photographer in the world today, too tired and miserable to do a decent job.

And the saddest, most discouraging part of this horrible day is that Harry had picked up the habit of talking to his babies all the time, especially now that they can actually hear him, and today he’s been so lifeless that he hasn’t said a single word to them.

Is this what he’s going to be like as a father? Is he just going to ignore his children or snap at them every time he’s tired?

He uses up whatever energy he has left trying to not bawl his eyes out on the way home, but once he gets there, he collapses onto the bed and sobs until he’s nearly made himself sick.

He’s so exhausted and sad and consumed by his horrible, horrible thoughts that he doesn’t even realize Louis is home until his husband walks into the bedroom.

“H? Why are you crying, baby? What’s wrong?” Louis asks, softly brushing Harry’s curls away from his forehead.

“Everything’s wrong… I’m exhausted and in pain, and I’m a terrible photographer and a horrible father, and I’m going to have to deal with all this alone because you’re going to leave me. I’m always complaining and I look horrible, like a fucking beached whale, so you’re _obviously_ going to find someone better than me.”

“Harry…” Louis whispers, wrapping his arms around his husband and pulling him towards himself until every inch of them is touching, “I’ve heard you spew a lot of bullshit over the years, but this takes the cake, which is probably a mean thing to say, but you just said a lot of horrible things about my amazing husband, who I love very much, so I’m a little offended on his behalf.”

“I know people like to describe pregnancy as a magical period, but I’ve seen enough pregnancies in my lifetime to know how hard they can be. As a matter of fact, I have nothing but admiration for your resilience and willpower. I am in awe of you… I’ve always known you were strong and fiercely protective of the ones you love, but, baby, you’ve gone above and beyond that since you’ve gotten pregnant.”

“As for your job, it involves a lot of kneeling and standing up and bending over, and whatever the hell else, to get a good photo, and I know you’d never give your clients anything less than perfection, so it’s no wonder that it’s harder for you to do it now. Ask your clients to take little breaks so that you can rest sometimes, I know they’d understand – and if they don’t, it’s because they clearly don’t know how hard pregnancy truly is.”

“Please do not ever say that you’re a horrible father ever again, because it couldn’t be further from the truth. I watch you make decisions based on what is best for the babies everyday, from what you’re going to have for breakfast in order to give them the best nutrients, to taking a bigger route from your photography studio to the parking lot because you don’t want to walk past the people smoking in front of that office building. Even when pregnancy is treating you like shit, you don’t resent or regret the babies - you blame yourself for feeling the way you do. Nobody expects you to walk around with _two_ babies inside you and still have the same energy or do the same things as before.”

“You want to know a little secret? Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough for our babies… I watch you sacrifice and suffer so much, and you always do it so beautifully and altruistically. I feel like there’s nothing I could do right now that would ever come even close to the amount of work and effort and _love_ that I see coming from you. I dropped a fucking spoon on my foot the other day, and I complained and whined twice as hard for twice as long as you have for the past six _months_.”

“And even if you did complain around the clock, I still wouldn’t leave you, because I love you more than I even thought possible and I think that nearly everything that comes out of your mouth is fucking golden. You’re it, Harry… You’re the love of my life and I would be absolutely miserable without you. You could magically turn into the actual Beast, and I’d still love you.”

“With that being said, you’re so, so wrong about the way you look. I’ve always thought you were the most stunning person in the whole world, but your level of beauty is getting ridiculous, honestly. Your hair has never been shinier and curlier. Like, I literally don’t know enough words to be able to describe it properly. Your skin is radiant – like, even now that you’re exhausted, you still look like you’ve been photoshopped. Your cheeks are always so pink, and I know it’s because you’re perpetually warm nowadays, but it just looks like the best makeup money can buy.”

“And don’t even get me started on your bump. It’s so, so beautiful, H. Your skin is so soft and smells amazing, thanks to that cocoa butter lotion you use. And this is probably the most possessive and Neanderthal thing I’ve ever said in my life, but there’s just something about you having _my_ babies inside you and everybody seeing it and knowing it that’s a huge turn-on. Like, they’re _our_ babies, obviously, but the caveman in me is an idiot.”

“Harry, I want you to know and remember this everyday for the rest of your life: there’s no one better than you, not for me.”

*

_Week 26_

_Hi, little zucchinis! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry hates baby showers.

He didn’t enjoy any of the ones he attended, nor did he like the ones he photographed, and he certainly does not like them now that everybody keeps asking when he’s having his own.

It’s not even like he’s some grumpy guy who’s perpetually mad at the world and can’t stand silly parties – one of his absolute favorites was the one Phoebe and Daisy threw for their dog when it turned one, after all.

It’s just the concept of a baby shower that he dislikes.

The pregnant man or woman is always treated like some sort of circus animal on display for everyone else’s entertainment.

Not to mention how it’s, like, hours of people saying that they look “huuuge” and making the same stupid jokes over and over again, his _favorite_ being “you’re so big - are you sure there isn’t another baby in there?”

Harry would hate to have all that attention on him, positive or negative. He gets enough of it as it is, waddling down the street or standing in line at the supermarket with multiple strangers’ hands on his belly, as if that’s suddenly appropriate to do that without permission just because he’s pregnant.

Plus, there’s something about how the carrier is supposed to celebrate the imminent arrival of the baby, whereas his or her partner is out getting beers with the boys to mourn the loss of whatever freedom he had left after getting married that doesn’t sit well with him.

It’s just too close to the whole “it’s the carrier’s obligation to take care of the baby” for Harry’s comfort.

(And don’t even get him started on diaper cakes – like, the fact that babies poop a lot and you have to clean it up kind of sucks. Stop trying to make it cute.)

So, when Liam takes him out for the day and is suspiciously against the idea of Harry going home for a nap or even calling Louis, he fears the worst.

Has Louis finally given into the pressure of having a baby shower?

Did he actually think Harry would enjoy it just because he’s the one who’s pregnant this time, even though he’s told him a million times that he didn’t want a baby shower?

Harry practices his fake excited face the whole way home, not wanting to disappoint the people who were invited to this thing.

(Oh, god! How many people did they invite?)

Louis walks out of the house as Liam is parking the car in their driveway, and Harry has to physically stop himself from yelling “you traitor!”

“Hey, baby!” Louis says, pecking Harry on the lips when he gets out of the car. He then crouches down to press two kisses onto his bump, “And hello to you too, babies!”

Harry manages a half-excited greeting, still wondering what the hell was going through his husband’s mind when he decided to throw him a surprise baby shower. He can spot his Mom’s car from the corner of his eye, confirming his suspicions.

(Not that Louis walking out to greet him wasn’t suspicious enough…)

“Okay, so here’s the thing… My sisters really, really wanted to throw you a surprise baby shower, but I know you hate them, so I told them no. But - and this is going to sound really bad – I realized that a baby shower would mean presents, presents which could save us a lot of money. So, I talked to everyone, and I agreed to it, on the condition that it wouldn’t be an obnoxious baby shower. I figured you wouldn’t be as annoyed if the “baby shower” was just a casual dinner with our family and closest friends. So, that’s what’s waiting for you inside, a nice chicken pot pie and our favorite people in the world gathered around a table, bearing those precious, precious gifts. Oh, shit! You’re crying. I messed up, didn’t I?”

Harry kisses his husband passionately despite the tears running down his face, not wanting him to think he did something wrong a single second longer.

“I love you so, so much, Louis Tomlinson-Styles. You’re so good to me, baby. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you. This is perfect. Absolutely perfect. You know me so well… Thank you. I can’t wait to have dinner with all my favorite people, especially my amazing, brilliant husband.”

“You deserve the world, H, but I do the best I can. We’re the Dream Team, right? We always have each other’s backs.”

Harry loves every second of his “baby shower”.

He eats until he physically cannot anymore and laughs until he burns every calorie.

He feels loved and cherished without feeling like a freak on display, and has adult conversations that don’t revolve around the pregnancy.

He loves talking about his little son and daughter, but these random conversations with his friends and family make him feel like he isn’t just a dad now, he’s the same person he was before, but with an added bonus. (Or, two bonuses, actually.)

And, at the end of the night, when it’s just Harry, Louis, and their two favorite little humans, he finds their previously empty nursery filled with presents.

There are only five or six “cute” presents in there, which would probably bum someone else out, but it’s exactly what Harry and Louis need.

They are now the proud owners of a double changing table, an assortment of pacifiers and baby bottles, two baby bouncers, a double stroller, baby monitors, two hand-me-down white bassinets, and two cribs.

They also unwrap two incredibly cute and unbelievably soft stuffed animals – an elephant and a giraffe - and a shit ton of baby clothes, ranging from newborn to twelve months of age.

And the cherry on top of this really thoughtful, amazing cake is that all the furniture they received was stuff they had already chosen and were waiting until they had some extra money to buy, so clearly his husband had let them know exactly what they wanted so that their twins wouldn’t end up with a mismatch room.

The nursery is obviously nautical themed – what else would you expect from a couple who have multiple complementing nautical tattoos? Everything looks beautifully harmonious together, the white and different shades of blue so, so gorgeous, Harry could cry.

(Okay, maybe he does cry a little bit. It’s the hormones, he swears.)

There’s only one main decorative element missing, a family friend who’s a painter coming in later this week to paint the walls and draw the huge anchor with a rope around it that they’ve been picturing since before Harry was even pregnant.

Harry’s absolute favorite feature though, is Louis’s contribution to the nursery.

His amazing husband had four small canvas printed: a cute little boat with an anchor tied to it, the babies names’ – here’s hoping they won’t change their minds in the meantime – and, the best one, two bigger whales and two smaller whales with the message “First we had each other. Then we had you. Now we have everything”.

*

_Week 28_

_Hi, little kabocha squashes! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

(Is Harry supposed to know what kabocha squashes are?)

Harry is ready to tackle the third trimester.

They’ve set up and painted the nursery, they’ve added more baby clothes and supplies to the collection, and he’s reduced his workload in order to cope with his huge bump and all the limitations and symptoms that come with it.

(Seriously, being pregnant with twins is not as cute once you realize how much bigger your bump is compared to other mommies and daddies at the same stage. Not even the copious amounts of lotions and creams and body butter he uses have saved him from stretch marks, two small ones appearing just last week.)

“Do my nipples look puffier to you?” Harry asks Louis, looking at them on his phone’s camera because getting up is too much work these days and he always looks ridiculous, like a turtle that fell onto its shell.

(Plus, one of the babies has the hiccups, and Harry is scared that if he moves he’ll startle him or her and they’ll go away. It’s so fucking cute!)

“Well, would you look at the time? Places to be, people to see!” Louis says quickly, making a move to get up from the couch only to be stopped by Harry’s hand on his arm.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks amusedly, giggling at his husband’s silly antics, especially him looking at his wrist when they both know that he never wears a watch.

“I don’t know what the right answer to that question is and I don’t want to upset you.” Louis says, looking around like he’s searching for a distraction, an exit, or someone to save him.

Harry snorts unattractively, “It’s not a trap, don’t worry. I’ve been reading about them growing a bit and even leaking around this stage, and I just can’t tell if they’re actually puffier or if they just look puffier to me because I’m already expecting it. I mean, they’ve never really been flat, so it’s hard to tell.”

“Yeah, I guess they do seem a little puffier if you look closely enough.” Louis says, leaning in as if he were examining them, only to suck one of them into his mouth.

“Stop it, you menace!” Harry says, slapping his husband’s arm, “We have to leave in less than twenty minutes if we want to make it to the childbirth class on time!”

Harry had waited until the end of the second trimester to sign up for classes because he’d been scared they’d just forget everything they learned if they took them too early.

The childbirth and parenting classes are not as terrifying as Harry thought they would be, and he really enjoys them actually, despite the fact that he always gets a headache due to his eagerness to learn everything.

Louis and him have better communication skills than the vast majority of the parents there, and they’ve had enough experience with babies to nearly always ace the practical tasks, so that certainly makes him feel a hell of a lot more prepared and relaxed.

The only problem with the childbirth classes is that there’s this one guy who has the hots for Louis.

You’d think someone accompanying their _pregnant wife_ would be a little too preoccupied with other stuff to lust over Harry’s husband, but nope, that dude always spends the whole class staring at Louis like a creep.

Like, Louis is incredibly attractive, they can both agree on that, but the circumstances make it beyond disgusting.

His husband doesn’t even look at him _ever_ , but creepy Jonathan just can’t take a hint, apparently.

They love their instructor too much though, and this is the only schedule that works for them, so they’ve decided to just power through it and hope that his wife gives birth soon.

“Ugh, can’t wait for us to be stuck in the same room as that creep again.” Harry complains as he puts his t-shirt back on.

“I almost feel sorry for him, you know. Must be hard to not get distracted by a DILF like me.” Louis jokes, smirking cockily as he flexes his arm.

“I just threw up in my mouth.” Harry deadpans, “If you ever say DILF again, my ass will sew itself shut permanently.”

“Guess I better get creepy Jonathan’s number, then. Bet he will be very _open_ to the idea of sleeping with me.”

“For better or for worse, buddy, remember? Can’t sleep with nobody else, sorry about it. Creepy Jonathan is just going to have to go fuck himself, I guess.” Harry says jokingly, waving his wedding ring right in front of Louis’ face.

“Damn… I’m stuck with you, then.”

*

_Week 29_

_Hi, little butternut squashes! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry is just typing his credit card number when Louis gets home from work.

“Hey, baby! You won’t believe the adorable baby clothes I’m buying right now. Come see them!” Harry says enthusiastically, raising his voice enough for Louis to be able to hear him from the couch.

Louis looks exhausted, but Harry doesn’t really pay much attention since he’s still in that baby shopping high.

“Ninety-seven bucks? What the fuck? Have you suddenly started shitting money?”

“What? Fuck you! I had three clients today, and I’ll spend MY money on whatever the fact I want to, you dick.” Harry replies, completely blindsided by Louis’ aggressiveness.

“Oh, so the money you make is yours, but my paycheck is _ours_. What a fucking hypocrite! Maybe I’ll just buy myself a fucking videogame instead of a juicer that is _oh-so-cute-Louis_ next time you want to use my card, how’s that sound?”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then maybe I should dump your ass and find someone who doesn’t fucking jack off to his bank statement.”

“Fucking go for it, then. What are waiting for?”

“Maybe I will. I’m sure I could find somebody better than you just by walking outside, you piece of shit!”

It’s disturbingly silent after Harry yells that, the severity of the horrible, horrible things they’d said to each other suddenly sinking in.

“This isn’t us. What are we doing?” Harry whispers, finally breaking the silence, “I’m sorry. I get into these moods sometimes – I think it’s because of the fucking hormones - and I get so irrationally mad so suddenly that I just can’t stop myself from thinking and saying these horrible things that I don’t mean. I hate it. I love being pregnant and I love that we’re having these babies, but I hate the fact that sometimes the exhaustion and the pain and the hormones turn me into somebody I don’t even recognize. I didn’t mean any of that, I swear. There’s no one better for me than you, Louis. But, the thing is that this isn’t you either, so I _know_ that you’re worried about something and it’s eating you alive. Please tell me what it is, baby. We can fix it together, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m so, so sorry, H.” Louis says, sniffling, “You’re pregnant for fucks sake, and I’m over here being a total ass and saying the most hurtful things I can think of. You’re right, I am worried… We’re having twins, and I’m so excited about that, I swear, but sometimes I start freaking out because one baby is expensive enough, and having to buy two of everything is an even bigger strain. I would honestly walk barefoot for the rest of my life and feed solely on bread if need be, but I’m terrified that one day you or the babies won’t be able to have something because we can’t afford it. I want to give them the world, but I _can’t_ because I’m not Bill fucking Gates. I really, really don’t want them to ever feel like one of them was unplanned in the sense that we can’t provide for two children or, like, not give them the opportunity for both to go to college, or something.”

“It’s not going to be easy, I know that, but we can do this, Lou. I know we can. We are both such hard workers, and there’s nothing I’m more certain of than the fact that we will _always_ do everything we can for our kids. I just wish you would remember that this isn’t just your burden to carry. You have me, not as an extra responsibility or someone else to worry about, but as a partner in the true sense of the word. We’re the Dream Team, baby, remember? We’re going to be such great parents, I’m sure of it, and we’ll make sure that our little babies aren’t deprived, but aren’t spoiled either. They don’t need us to be fucking millionaires and to be able to afford everything under the sun. We have something so much more important to give them, and, _god_ , we have so much of it. Love, Louis. We have so much love to give them. The way you make me feel, that overwhelming unfiltered love that you always show for the people you care about, that’s way more valuable than a baby tablet or whatever the fuck they’re called. I’m sure when they’re old enough to realize and acknowledge everything we’ve done and will do for them, they’ll be much more grateful for unconditional love and support than any material thing we could ever give them. And believe me, Louis, there’s no one who’s better at loving and protecting someone than you.”  

“Fucking marry me, Harry.”

“We’re already married, but yes. There hasn’t been a single day in the eight years that I’ve known you that I wouldn’t marry you, my love.”

*

_Week 30_

_Hi, little cabbages! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry is a fucking walking, talking list of horrible pregnancy symptoms.

He’s currently waddling to the kitchen to get some bananas and water to help his leg cramps, his feet and ankles so swollen that they look like Shrek’s.

He keeps bumping into shit on his way there, both because he’s getting clumsier and clumsier every week and because he’s exhausted.

(He got three hours of sleep last night, which is a record high for this week.)

He’s almost there when he sneezes and accidentally pees himself a little. Great.

He still gets his bananas before waddling to his bedroom to change though, because nothing can stand in between him and his food.

Even though all that sucks (a lot!), there’s something that always makes it a million times more bearable – the fact that he’s never alone.

Literally.

Harry always has his two best buds with him, and whether it’s just to vent or to distract himself from the pain and discomfort, he can always count on his babies to listen. Sometimes it almost feels like a proper conversation, what with them kicking or moving around right after he asks a question.

Harry suddenly starts craving applesauce while he’s still eating his banana. No, not just applesauce. Applesauce with something else… A grilled cheese sandwich! Yeah, a grilled cheese sandwich with applesauce on top! Yum!

And, for the first time _ever_ , his timing is actually perfect because his husband left to pick up groceries a little while ago.

He unlocks his phone to call his husband, only to realize that he can’t remember his number.

 _It’s okay,_ Harry thinks to himself, _just pregnancy brain. I’ll look for his number in my contacts._

He opens his contact list and stares at it for a solid minute, trying to get his stupid fucking brain to remember his husband’s name.

He can totally picture every detail of his body, from the exact shade of his eyes to softness of the skin on the inside of his thighs, but his fucked up pregnancy brain just can’t put a name to the face.

He’s forgotten his husband’s _name_ …

His stupid pregnancy brain can’t fucking remember what the love of his life is called!

Jesus Christ!

Just as Harry is about to start bawling his eyes out, his husband comes back carrying the disturbing amount of bags of food he’s come to associate with pregnancy.

“LOUIS!” Harry shouts, finally remembering his lovely, sweet, amazing husband’s name.

“HARRY!” Louis screams back jokingly.

And then the waterworks start.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Louis asks, dropping the bags on the floor and running to his husband’s side to comfort him, even though tears are a normal part of Harry’s daily routine by now.

Harry’s sobs quickly make him run out of air – he’s especially prone to breathlessness now that the babies are pressing against his lungs – so he focuses really hard on trying to match Louis’ breaths.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. If you don’t calm down, I can’t give you the yummy chocolate I brought back…”

“Ch-Chocolate?” Harry hiccups, his body responding to Louis’ “blackmail” because he’s just that pathetic.

“Lots of chocolate.” Louis answers, taking Harry’s favorite dark chocolate out of the bag.

(He’s eaten so much of it since the beginning of his pregnancy that he’s sure there’s a CEO out there whose holidays in Hawaii are being paid by him alone.)

“Stupid pregnancy brain made me forget your name.” Harry explains, pouting, “I love you so much, but I just couldn’t fucking remember your name, Louis. I’m so, so sorry. I love you.”

Louis tightens his cheeks in that characteristic trying-not-to-smile fond look, “H, it’s okay, darling. I know it’s just the pregnancy messing with your brain. Not to mention how little sleep you’re getting every night. It happens sometimes. As a matter of fact, I’ve found the remote in the fridge twice already, but I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be upset. You’re too hard on yourself, H. You’re growing _two babies_ in there – nobody should judge you for having these little brain farts sometimes. I think it’s cute and quite funny, honestly, and I know that one day you’ll look back and laugh too. We’ll be holding our two precious babies in our arms soon enough and your brain will go back to normal. Your sleeping schedule, not so much, but we’re focusing on the positives here.”

“I heard every single word you said, and it was incredibly sweet, and I really appreciate it, but I can’t stop thinking about that damn chocolate now. I’m sorry I can’t thank you the way you deserve to be thanked.”

Louis snorts, “Of course, baby. Here you go.”

“Will you please hide the rest so that I don’t eat it all?” Harry begs after breaking it in half, looking mournfully at the other half still left inside the wrapper.

Louis kneels in front of the couch and starts talking to Harry’s bump instead, his lips brushing against his skin and giving him goose bumps, “Don’t worry, babies. I won’t let mean Daddy deprive you from chocolate. You want the whole chocolate bar, Papa will give you- Oh my god! Did you see that?”

In a fucking out of this world turn of events, one the babies kicked hard enough to tap Louis softly on the nose.

It still freaks the hell out of Harry whenever he can actually _see_ the babies moving around, like something out a horror movie. He’d heard about that possibly happening later in the pregnancy, but he guesses it’s a little too crowded in there with both babies.

“See, you were being mean to me, so the babies came to my rescue! Beating you up from the womb, that’s some serious loyalty right there.” Harry says, laughing his ass off. He can’t believe one of the babies actually kicked Louis in the face. Very, very softly, but still.

“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you? Well, since you want me to put the chocolate somewhere you can’t get to it, I will.” Louis says, smirking as he places it on the floor.

“How very dare you, you asshole?” Harry says, pretending to be offended even though he thinks his husband is the wittiest, funniest human being he’s ever met, “I’m carrying _your_ children and you’re mocking the fact that I can’t really bend over and pick up stuff anymore? That’s it – I’m leaving you!”

“No, you’re not. You like my foot rubs way too much.” Louis jokes, lifting Harry’s right foot onto his lap and applying pressure with his thumbs just the way he likes it.

“Hmm, you’re right. Maybe I’ll keep you around just until I pop these kids out.”

“How about forever and ever instead?”

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard…”

*

_Week 33_

_Hi, little pineapples! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

It’s 4:30 a.m. and Harry couldn’t be more awake.

Every night around this time for the past many, many weeks, his babies would go absolutely insane, moving around faster than Harry thought possible and kicking him left and right, especially in the ribs.

Tonight though, he can’t feel any movement at all.

He tries to tell himself that they’re just sleeping and that there’s no reason for him to be worried, but he just can’t stop thinking about how strange it is that they’re not moving at all when this is precisely the time of day when they’re usually most active.

“Louis…” Harry whispers, shaking his husband gently.

“Wha’?” Louis mumbles, and Harry instantly feels guilty for waking him up in the middle of the night for such a silly reason.

“The babies aren’t moving even though it’s after four a.m., and I’m scared.” Harry explains, sitting up with his back against the headboard, his right hand placed over his bump protectively.

“Well, maybe their Papa’s amazing singing voice will wake them up.” Louis jokes, referencing the fact that Harry swears up and down that the babies always “dance” when he sings to them.

Louis being Louis, of course, starts singing _Beez In The Trap_ , making Harry roll his eyes. He knows their kids aren’t actually learning any vocab yet, but he’s getting more and more afraid that their first words are going to be Nicki Minaj lyrics.

Louis is almost at the end of the song and there still hasn’t been even the slightest movement inside him.

Then, just as Harry is about to start really freaking out, one of them moves so fast from one side to the other that it’s visible from the outside.

“There’s one of our alien babies!” Louis exclaims, using the term of (mostly) endearment that they’ve adopted for when they can see them moving, “You know, most pregnant people would take advantage of the fact that their babies are sleeping at a normal time for once to get some rest as well, but you just had to wake up the little monsters, didn’t you, you worrywart?”

“Maybe you just need to tire me out so that I can fall asleep more easily, then.” Harry says, biting his lip teasingly and raising his eyebrows.

“And how do you suggest I do that, huh?” Louis asks teasingly, kissing his way down from his jaw to his collarbone, “Should we go for a run? Or should we do some lifting, bruh? Or maybe I should just read you a chapter from the most boring book I can find, how’s that?”

Harry doesn’t play along at all. When he gets turned on these days, it’s so intense right away that he literally loses the power of speech.

He always listens though, and lord only knows how much Louis’ words affect him.

“Or maybe I should just bury my cock so deep inside you that you won’t be able to say anything besides my name for ages. Is that what you’d like, honey?”

Harry whimpers in response, wishing he could feel Louis’ body lying on top of his. Fuck, he misses that…

“Let’s open you up, then, baby.” Louis whispers tenderly, “Will you lie down on your side for me, please?”

Harry obeys immediately, albeit slowly. He doesn’t set up any pillows underneath or around himself, knowing that his lovely, attentive husband will do it for him.

(And he’ll do it a hell of a lot more easily than Harry would be able to.)

Louis places two pillows underneath Harry and one between his legs, before reaching into the bedside table to grab the lube.

He cuddles Harry from behind then, making sure his husband can both hear and feel him because he knows how much he craves it.

The feeling of a single finger breeching him almost has Harry hyperventilating. He’s been so sensitive and fucking _easy_ since the beginning of the second trimester, it’s insane.

You’d think the bigger he got, the more opposed to sex he’d be, but it’s the total opposite.

Louis opens him up slowly – way too slow in Harry’s opinion – mostly because there have been a few too many instances when sex went from pleasurable to uncomfortable in the time frame of a single thrust. They’ve figured out since then that the recipe for success is making sure that Harry is as open and as on edge as possible.

Three of Louis’ fingers have Harry moaning and writhing like it’s an actual cock.

“How do you want it, baby?” Louis asks, coating his length with lube. He will never get over how insanely hot his husband always looks like this, blown pupils and cock hard for Harry and only Harry.

“Wan’ ride you.” Harry mumbles, trying to focus enough to actually be able to do it.

“Yeah, baby? You sure?” Louis asks, furrowing his brow.

Harry hasn’t been on top in ages, always feeling too heavy and tired.

Today though, he’d had a decent sleep up until when he woke up panicking, and he feels energized enough to be able to ride Louis’ lovely cock.

“Yeah, I really want to ride you. And I can do it.” Harry says, trying to not only convince Louis, but also himself. Confidence is already a huge step towards victory, right?

Louis helps Harry straddle him, and then he places a steady hand on his thigh and another supporting his bump.

The way his husband acknowledges his pregnant belly while they’re having sex always makes him fall more in love with him.

He’s read so many posts and comments online about people whose husbands don’t like to be able to see their bump during sex or even refuse to touch them at all because “it’s weird”, that it always makes him smile when Louis acts like the opposite of those assholes.

His husband doesn’t just tolerate seeing his pregnant belly during sex, he _likes_ it.

If anything, it’s actually brought more intimacy and gentleness into their sex life, as their twins were, in the words of Stevie Wonder, “made from love”.

His husband’s attitude towards the bump isn’t weird or kinky though, just tender and sweet, a nice reminder that Harry isn’t just a warm hole to Louis– he’s the love of his life, his husband, and now the father of his children.

Fuck, riding someone at eight months of pregnancy is not easy.

Usually, Harry wouldn’t even need to push himself up by placing his hands on Louis’ chest until he was close to coming, but now he’s relying on both his hands and Louis’ hands to bounce up and down.

“Fuck, Lou…” Harry moans when he gets the angle just right, going weak at the knees and losing the ability to keep moving.

“I- I-“ Harry starts, not wanting to admit defeat. Not only does he want to prove to himself that he can still ride his husband, he also knows how much Louis loves it and he deserves it so, so much.

“Are you tired, baby? It’s okay if you are…” Louis says warmly, drawing circles on Harry’s thighs with his thumb.

“Yeah…” Harry finally caves in, pouting.

“Do you want to be on your side again, H?”

“Yeah…”

Louis helps him lift himself up and lie down on his side, rearranging the pillows again until he’s fully supported and comfortable.

It takes such a long time for Harry to be situated again that he can’t help but feel incredibly guilty and embarrassed, “Sorry.”

“Do I seem bothered to you?” Louis asks jokingly, pressing his still hard cock against Harry’s ass.

Harry keens when Louis presses himself inside him again, and then sighs happily when his husband spoons him, every inch of their bodies touching.

Louis twines their fingers together against Harry’s chest and starts moving slowly halfway in and out of him – not that their position allows for faster or more powerful thrusts, anyway.

His husband’s cock keeps pressing right against his spot though, so all he can do is moan and hold on to Louis’ hand as his orgasm builds steadily, and much too fast, in the pit of his stomach.

He comes so, so quickly, but Louis reassures him through it, whispering in his ear that he loves how responsive he is and how easy it is to make him come on his cock now.

As soon as Harry’s whole body relaxes, Louis pulls out, knowing better than to chase his own orgasm inside his now overly sensitive husband.

Harry wishes he could just turn around and make him come using his hand or his mouth, but he’s too tired, too big, too everything.

“Fuck my thighs.” He mumbles instead, getting rid of the pillow that was in between his legs so that it can be nice and tight for his husband.

“Shit…” Louis whispers, sounding like he’s in awe, and Harry wishes he could see him right now.

He’s exhausted, but the feeling of Louis’ cock moving between his lubed thighs and the few small sighs that fall from his husband’s lips keep him awake.

His body might be a mess, but his mind is completely focused on Louis and on making him come, so he talks.

He says all the right things - or, _wrong_ , really, considering that it would give any decent person a stroke – and ends up moaning even louder than Louis when his husband comes all over his legs.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” Louis says, kissing his cheek lazily.

“You let some dude fuck your thighs, and all of the sudden he’s, like, in love with you.” Harry jokes, though his delivery is a little weak due to how tired he is.

He only manages to stay awake long enough to hear Louis say, “And I will love you forever, too.”

*

_Week 34_

_Hi, little cantaloupes! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry is sure that the babies can recognize and differentiate his and Louis’ voice by now.

Harry has an evident unfair advantage, but there hasn’t been a single day in the last month or so that Louis hasn’t had a full-blown, yet obviously one-sided conversation with the twins.

He obviously gets to have as many private conversations with his babies as he wants, given that they are _literally_ inside him.

They’re usually silly little comments narrating whatever he’s doing, but sometimes he’s brutally honest about his feelings, fears, and hopes for them, daring to whisper things he’d never tell anyone else.

Louis should be allowed to talk to the babies in private too, and just because they’re inside Harry’s body, that doesn’t mean that his husband can’t have one-on-one (or one-on-two, rather?) conversations with their son and daughter.

So, Harry always minds his own business while Louis is talking to their babies, usually picking activities that he knows will keep him entertained enough that he won’t accidentally eavesdrop on their conversation.

Today though, he’s feeling a little blue, so he guiltily starts paying attention to what Louis is saying while pretending to still be scrolling down his Facebook feed.

“…if you join a team, I promise I’ll be the loudest, most obnoxious parent ever. You’ll probably give me shit for it, but I know that deep down you’ll actually be happy that Daddy and I are so supportive, even if we embarrass you sometimes. But if you don’t end up liking sports, that’s okay. I promise you don’t have to do anything just because I like it. The absolute most important thing to me is your happiness, so if reading is what makes you happy, or, like, ballet, then you have my full support. Both of you! Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not supposed to do something because it’s “girly”, or in your case, princess, not girly enough. You can do whatever you set your mind to, and Daddy and I will always have your back and love you no matter what. Except if you’re mean to the other kids. That’s not cool, and I won’t let you get away with it. If your teachers complain that you’re too energetic or talk too much, I’ll secretly be just fine with that, because lord knows how many times Nana heard that, but if they tell me that you’re making fun of other kids, or, god forbid, _hitting_ them, then you’re going to be in big, big trouble. You should always aim to make other people smile, not cry. I can assure you that spreading love will make you a hell of a lot happier than spreading hatred. But your Daddy is such a generous, kindhearted human being thought that I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for you to be little meanies.”

“Hey, H?” Louis says suddenly, making Harry fear that he’s been caught eavesdropping. He desperately tries to look innocent by pretending not to hear his husband.

“H?” Louis repeats, tapping Harry on the arm this time.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the babies will have four nipples too?”

Harry snorts unattractively, falling deeper in love with his husband’s beautiful brain and it’s weird transition from a deep conversation with the twins to such a bizarre thought.

“Multiple nipples aren’t genetic, are they? Neither my parents nor Gemma have them, at least.”

“Can you look it up, please? I’m curious.”

Harry does as he’s told, still shaking his head fondly, “Looks like it’s not genetic, thank god!”

“Hey! Don’t be mean to these little cuties. I love you soooo much!” Louis says in a weird baby voice, kissing Harry’s extra nipples like a weirdo and making him almost regret being shirtless.

“You’re the weirdest person I have ever met.”

“Ah, but you love me just the way I am…”

“I really, really do.”

*

_Week 37_

_Hi, little leeks! Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!_

Harry is ready for this whole parenting thing.

He remembers reading that the last month of the pregnancy could be one of the most stressful periods, since the large amount of unknowns might scare the carrier.

Harry isn’t worried at all because he’s planned and prepared everything.

He’s got the nursery ready, including a ridiculous amount of clothing and baby supplies, his bump has dropped (honestly, the amount of weird lingo he’s learned since the beginning of his pregnancy is off the charts), and he’s been having Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks now.

The hospital bag has been gathering dust by the door for a while now, they’ve picked both names, he’s gone over the birth plan over and over again, and he’s truthfully so, so tired of being pregnant.

He’s way past the cute stage – he’s as big as fucking Saturn now and as uncomfortable as someone who’s accidentally sat on a cactus.

“Hey, baby!” Harry says when he picks up the phone, incredibly happy to have someone to entertain him for a little bit at least.

Being self-employed, Harry got to decide when his paternity leave would start, so he hasn’t worked in over seven weeks.

Normally, a break from work would be quite nice, but he’s so big and uncomfortable that he’s always trapped at home all alone.

Although his constant trips to the bathroom and the decade and a half that takes him to do anything are quite time consuming, he still ends up feeling bored to death and basically waiting by the door for Louis to come home from work like a little puppy.

“Hey, H. I just wanted to check up on you and see how you’re doing. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just, you know, a little bor- uuuh, ouch!”

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just having a bout of never-ending Braxton Hicks contractions today. Seriously, I feel like these bastards having been coming and going all day. And they’re really fucking painful this time, because _clearly_ the Universe hates me.”

It’s really quiet on the other side of the phone for a few seconds, so quiet that Harry starts wondering if the call has disconnected.

“You do know you’re not going to be pregnant forever, right? Like, at some point, very soon, you’re actually going to deliver these babies.”

Harry snorts, “Really? Gee, I thought I could just keep them inside me for as long as I wanted! Seriously, Lou, did you light up a joint during your lunch break, or something?”

“If you’ve been having Braxton Hicks contractions for that long, then have you considered the possibility that they might actually be just _contractions_? Like, the real deal?”

Harry inhales sharply in surprise, “Am I in labor?”

“Don’t panic, baby. I’m just going to take the afternoon off and I’ll be home very soon. In the meantime, I’d like you to please count the time between your contractions and also count how long they last, darling. I don’t want you to hang up though, so you should get the iPad. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Harry is so, so glad that Louis is being so level-headed and calm, because he’s seriously freaking out right now.

He might be in labor and he’s all alone.

What if something goes wrong and he can’t get help?

What if he waits too long to call Dr. Corden because he’s waiting for Louis to get home?

What if it’s too early and his babies aren’t ready to be born yet?

He knows twins are often delivered earlier than expected and they’ll be just fine if they’re born now, but what if the blogs and the books and Dr. Corden are all wrong?

What if he can’t do this?

What if he can’t power through the labor and bring his babies into the world?

What if he isn’t good enough or strong enough or brave enough to do this?

“H, you still there?” Louis asks, and Harry hears the elevator ding, meaning that his husband is already on his way to the car.

He hadn’t even heard him tell his boss he had to take off early. Or noticed how much time had passed.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I’m all over the place right now.”

“Have you gotten the iPad yet, sweetheart?”

“No. I’m getting now.” Harry answers, blushing as he realizes that he couldn’t even follow such a simple instruction.

“Okay, take your time, H. I know you’re nervous, but I need you to try to stay calm. It’s going to be okay, baby.”

“I have it.”

“Great. Now I want you to wait until you have a contraction and then start counting, please.”

Harry has another contraction nearly immediately after Louis said that, almost as if it’d been summoned.

He manages to do as he was told this time though, counting the duration of the contraction and the time interval before the next one.

His back actually hurts more than the contractions themselves, and the most comfortable position for him at the moment seems to be leaning forward with his hands holding onto the back of the couch.

(He’s pretty sure Louis has fucked him from behind in this exact place and in the same position at some point. His husband confirms it over the phone.)

By the time Louis gets home, Harry’s contractions have evolved from being about nine minutes apart to slightly less than eight minutes, and he’s dead sure that he’s in labor.

Seeing his husband walk through the door is like a breath of fresh air, and Harry is instantly ten times calmer.

It’s not like he couldn’t do this alone if he had to, but Louis is the person that he loves and trusts most in the whole world, and he’s been his rock since he was a freshman in college.

With Louis by his side, Harry is sure that he can do anything.

“You’re doing great, baby.”

Harry immediately moans in relief when he feels his husbands hands press firmly against the bottom of his back, just as he’d been taught during their childbirth classes.

“I’m going to call Dr. Corden now, okay, H?”

“Yeah, please…”

It’s dead quiet in the living room while they’re waiting for Dr. Corden to pick up, Louis’ decision to put the phone on speaker forcing them to listen to the repetitive beeping until Harry feels like pulling his hair out.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Corden, this is Louis Tomlinson-Styles. Harry’s having contractions. When he first started timing them, they were nine minutes apart, but now they’re eight minutes apart.”

“A little less than eight, actually.” Harry intervenes, the pain and discomfort easily detectable in his breathy tone.

“Okay, Harry, I’m just going to ask you a few questions now. Did you water break?”

“No.”

“Any pain?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Has the pain been constantly on the same level, or has it become stronger or weaker over time?”

“Stronger. Definitely stronger.”

“How long has each contraction lasted for?”

“Twenty-something seconds at first, now around thirty.” Harry answers, basically in a drawn out moan of pain as he suffers through another contraction.

“Anything else you think I should be aware of, Harry?”

“My, uh, my back hurts. A lot.”

“Okay, Harry, it sounds like you’re in labor. Since it’s your first pregnancy, I think it’d be best for you to not wait any longer before having Louis drive you here. Don’t rush, though. I’ll be right here waiting for you. Sound good?”

“Yes.” Harry mumbles.

“We’ll be seeing you very soon, Dr. Corden. Thank you.” Louis says, still applying that heavenly pressure on Harry’s achy back with one hand as he hangs up the call with the other.

“Alright, you heard the man, H. Let’s go have these babies!” Louis exclaims, helping Harry find the easiest and most comfortable way to lean on him so that they can make their way out of their home.

His husband picks up the hospital bag with the gracefulness of somebody who’s gotten used to helping a heavily pregnant person move around, but Harry still stops in the hallway before actually leaving.

“Next time I walk through this door, I’m going to be a dad.” Harry whispers, his eyes filling to the brim with tears.

“Not just a dad, H. You’re going to be the best dad in the world.” Louis says, placing a sweet kiss on the tip of Harry’s nose.

Harry wants to tell Louis that he’s an amazing dad already, and that the fact that his husband reacted so calmly whereas he was freaking out proves how great he is.

He wants to tell his husband that he loves him, and that he’s so, so happy they found each other and decided to build this beautiful life together.

He wants to praise Louis until he runs out of air, but a contraction sweeps every thought out of his mind.

The car ride isn’t that long, but his contractions become lengthier and lengthier, and the time in between them shorter and shorter, which scares Harry quite a lot because he thought it was supposed to progress slower than this.

By the time Dr. Corden has measured his vital signs, connected all the cables and monitors, and checked how dilated he is, his contractions are already slightly less than five minutes apart.

“Looks like luck is on your side, Harry. You’re progressing quite fast. The anesthesiologist is on his way here now, so you’re going to be a lot more comfortable very soon.”

Harry had considered having a natural birth back when he was still writing the birth plan, but given that it’s his first pregnancy and he’s having _twins_ , he’d chosen the epidural route.

Now that he truly knows how painful labor is, he’s sure that even if he had been planning on having a drug-free birth, he would have changed his mind by now.

The anesthesiologist does show up soon after, but the pain relief, not so much.

Theoretically, Harry had known that placing the epidural is not that easy, but by the doctor’s fifth attempt, he genuinely wants to punch him in the face.

It’s taking so fucking long that Dr. Corden actually interrupts the beginning of the sixth attempt to check how dilated Harry is.

“Harry, you’re almost at eight centimeters, so the transition phase is going to start very soon if you keep progressing this fast. We can keep trying to place the epidural until we either succeed or can’t wait any longer, or we can just forgo it right now and try to make you as comfortable as possible. There isn’t a right or wrong choice here, Harry. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do, okay?”

Harry looks at Louis with tears in his eyes, being at a stage where he isn’t capable of having a full conversation anymore, but hoping that his husband will be able to read him.

“H, if you want to stick to the birth plan, we will, okay? You’re the most important person in this room, and I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of pain you’re in, so follow your heart and your gut, and pick whatever you think is right. Don’t be scared, though. I know it sucks that it’s not going the way you planned it, but you are the strongest person I have ever met, and you can count on me. Always. Even if at some point you literally cannot get a single word out, I’ll still make sure you’re the loudest voice in the room.”

Harry really didn’t prepare for this.

He skipped all the visualization and hypnobirth techniques in the books and websites because he was a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t have a natural birth.

He ignored all the real stories of carriers who had had a drug-free birth and their long list of tips because he wouldn’t need them.

He literally _took notes_ about the epidural and knew exactly what to expect.

He was so certain he could just plan the delivery in advance down to the smallest detail that it never occurred to him that real life might get in the way.

No book had been capable of portraying what kicking would feel like though, nor the feeling of hearing your children’s heartbeats for the first time.

No blog was capable of describing the immensurable love he feels for these little humans whose faces he hasn’t even seen yet, nor the protective instinct that commands all of his decisions nowadays.

Maybe a few tips would be nice, but natural birth is _natural_. It’s instinctive and he just has to listen to his body and trust that Mother Nature knows what it’s doing.

He remembers reading that the best piece of advice for pregnancy and labor is that you should trust your instincts.

Plus, he has a team of professionals that he fully trusts to rely on if his instincts fail him.

He’s scared, and tired, and panicking, but the twins are more important than any of that.

He can’t stay in this position forever hoping for some pain relief when his babies are desperately trying to make their way out of him really, really fast.

So, he steps up to the plate and agrees to have a natural birth.

The only part of the birth plan he’s absolutely not willing to forgo are the photos of him holding his son and daughter for the first time, and he says it so many times in between contractions that he’s sure the nurse wishes she could give him a tranquilizer and knock him out.

Given that Louis will probably be too busy holding his hand and/or too focused on his _newborn children_ to remember, he’s picked a specific nurse to be in charge of documenting his first face-to-face interaction with his babies.

Lord only knows the kind of hell Louis and him would give her if she forgot, and they’ve made it so obvious that he’s sure she’ll remember.

The transition phase is absolute hell. It’s shorter for Harry than for the majority of carriers, lasting only a few minutes, but it feels like a fucking century. The contractions are so intense and packed together that he doesn’t even have time to breathe properly in between them, let alone relax.

He shakes and sobs and crushes Louis’ hand, but his husband never leaves his side.

He whispers compliments and reassurances every time Harry is sure that he can’t do it anymore, almost as if he can read on his face.

He tries every little trick in the book to help him power through this hell phase as he cries along with him, his husband’s pain being more than his heart can take.

He places the cool cloth back on Harry’s forehead every time he accidentally loses it as he squirms around trying to find a position that doesn’t feel like the fiery pits of hell.

He doesn’t even blink when Harry’s water breaks and splashes of it land on him.

Harry can sometimes focus enough to hear Dr. Cordens reassurances and reminders that his babies are moving downward to meet their Daddy, but it’s Louis’ voice that makes him strong enough to power through contraction after contraction.

He’d been scared he wouldn’t be able to understand the signals that his body was sending him, but there’s an incredible degree of certainty in his voice when he says, “Need to push…”

“Okay, Harry, you’re not quite at ten centimeters yet, but you’re close enough that if your body is telling you it’s time to start pushing, we’re going to listen to it.”

Louis helps Harry change from fetal position to delivery position, placing one arm under his husband’s knees as he was instructed, but his other hand never lets go of Harry’s.

At least he’s able to be in the position he’d been hoping for, even though everything else has gone to shit.

“On your next contraction, I want you to start pushing, okay? Push, push, push while the contraction is happening, and then stop in between them. Do you understand, Harry?”

“Yes.” Harry groans, crying even harder when he feels Louis’ lips draw the words _I love you_ on the overheated skin of his forehead over and over again.

Harry’s contractions feel a little more manageable now that he’s actually doing something during them besides just grinding his teeth and crying, but he still screams his head off with.

He’s so tired that he honestly just feels like giving up, but then he hears just the right words to keep going even though he physically feels like he cannot, “I can see your baby’s head, Harry. You’re doing great! You’re going to be holding them in your arms in no time!”

So, he pushes and pushes and pushes.

“I can see our baby’s face, H! So beautiful…” Louis says, and even though Harry couldn’t even spell his own name right now, he still notices his teary tone.

“Your husband’s right, Harry. What a cute face! Good job!” Harry hears Dr. Corden say, “Okay, so now I want you to stop pushing and we’re just going to gently help the baby out. There we go. Well done! It’s a girl!”

From the moment his little baby girl is placed in Harry’s arms, if feels like everything freezes and there’s no one else in the room.

Her loud cries are the only thing he hears.

The little body against his chest is the only thing he feels.

Her beautiful face is the only thing he sees.

He doesn’t even notice it when Louis cuts the umbilical cord.

Nothing else matters. Just her.

Just the incredible baby girl in his arms.

His body reminds him that his fight is not over yet and that he’s still very much in labor, though.

The nurse takes his girl away to be cleaned up and assessed so that he can focus on delivering his little boy, and Harry almost wants to ask her to give her right back because he’s not ready to be parted from his daughter just yet.

Once again, time is kind towards Harry and it barely takes four contractions before his son is out.

When he’s placed on Harry’s chest, he feels complete, almost as if he’d been waiting to meet his little son and daughter his whole life.

He’s just as beautiful as his sister, but a lot quieter.

“He isn’t crying as loudly. Is he okay?” Louis asks, clearly noticing and worrying about it too. He really is his voice when Harry can’t speak.

“Some babies are just quieter, and it looks like you little boy is one of them. Don’t worry. If anything, you should be grateful.” Dr. Corden jokes, but Harry doesn’t hear anything past the reassurance that his baby boy is okay.

By the time Harry is holding both his babies in his arms, he’s all out of tears.

He’d thought he’d known happiness and unconditional love before, but he was so, so wrong.

They’re so tiny and fragile, and Harry is sure that he’ll stop at nothing to protect them.

He still hasn’t said anything to their babies, desperately trying to find the right words to welcome them into the world.

Louis comes through, though.

His husband, his rock, the love of his life, the _father of his children_ puts everything Harry had wanted his babies to know into two simple sentences.

“Hi, little Holden and Olivia. Daddy and Papa love you soooo much!”

***

_Epilogue_

“Papa and I need to talk to you about something, so can you please stop playing for a second? It’s serious, okay, so try to focus and pay attention, lovelies.” Harry says, mostly directed at Olivia - their restless child, as they’ve been calling her since before she could even walk.

Louis smiles kindly, “You know how when you see people with big bellies on the street, like Aunt Lottie, you always ask if there’s a baby inside their tummies?”

(It’s actually so embarrassing, especially when it’s an old man with a beer belly and the twins make sure to scream out the question.)

Harry watches fondly as their twins nod exaggeratedly in unison, their blue eyes fixed on Louis.

“ _Well,_ there’s a baby growing inside Daddy’s tummy right now, so you’re going to have a little brother or sister. Isn’t that cool?”

They both look puzzled for a while, clearly trying to wrap their little heads around the happy news.

(Well, it’s happy news for them at least. Here’s hoping the kids agree.)

“When is it going to come in the mail?” Olivia asks, making Harry scrunch up his face to contain his laughter.

Louis is not as courteous, though, laughing loudly and unabashedly.

“Babies don’t come in the mail, sweetheart. In a few months, around Halloween, Daddy’s going to go see this really nice man called Dr. Corden and the baby is going to be born then.”

Oh lord, may there be no follow-up questions, please and thank you.

“Oh, okay.” Olivia accepts the explanation easily, already looking distracted as she eyes her discarded legos.

“Umm” Holden says, so softly, Harry almost doesn’t hear it. It’s been over four years, but Holden is still their quiet baby.

“Yes, sweetie?” Louis encourages him, so patiently and calmly that Harry falls a little more in love with him.

Louis has always been so, so impatient, but when it comes to their kids, he’s got all the time in the world.

Back when they were still getting them out of diapers, his husband would wait fifty minutes for them to go potty with a constant encouraging smile on his face and not a single complaint.

“Are you going to love the baby more than us?” Holden asks, so gloomily it makes Harry have to hold back tears.

“Of course not, baby.” Louis says, cuddling his boy against his chest, “Daddy and I will never love the baby more than you and your sister, pinky promise.”

“Before we had you and Livvy, I loved your Papa very much. And then after you were born, I loved him just as much, or even more, actually. My heart just grew enough to fit you both in as well. I could have eighty babies, and there would still be no one I love more than you, Livvy, and Papa, even if I end up loving them just as much as you three.”

Holden furrows his brow, and Harry almost feels like he’s looking at himself in the mirror, “You’re going to have eighty babies, Daddy?”

Louis nods mock seriously, but, fortunately, Holden is too distracted looking at his Daddy with confusion written all over his face. Harry still elbows him in the ribs for it.

“No, honey. We don’t know if you will have any more brothers or sisters after this baby inside my tummy right now, but I can promise you that I won’t have eighty babies.”

“But you’ll always love me?”

“Daddy and Papa will always, always love you to the moon and back. I promise.”

And then there were five.

 


End file.
